Unholy Alliance
by Angel Grace
Summary: Future fic. Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?
1. Of all the gin joints...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: PG

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part One: Of all the gin joints…

                Rory Gilmore needed a drink.  Even after all these years, there were still times when Paris could drive her to distraction.  Fortunately, the good times far outnumbered the bad, saving Rory from a life of alcoholism.

                It had been a surprising partnership, to say the least.  When both of Paris' parents had been killed in a car accident during her senior year at Harvard, she had become a very wealthy young woman.  She had approached Rory with an offer to start up an independent magazine following their impending college graduation.  Rory was hesitant at first, but the offer proved too tempting.

                Freshly capped and gowned, the newly formed G & G Publishing leased office space in downtown Hartford during the summer of 2007, and began working on the first issue of the _Harbinger_.  The focus of the magazine was to be cutting edge, whether it was dealing with politics or pop culture.  Paris would be listed as the Editor-in-Chief, while Rory would write and edit under the pen name L.L. Hayden.  Going in, Rory knew that it would be a struggle making compromises with Paris, but she believed their experience on _The Franklin_ would help.

                After three grueling months, the inaugural issue was ready to go to press.  Paris used her family's connections to stage an extravagant launch party, and the magazine was well received.

                Three years later, they were still going strong.  They catered to a younger target readership than many magazines, and received several critical accolades for, as one reporter phrased it, "placing a finger on the sophisticated, intelligent pulse of today's young adults."  In fact, things were going so well that Paris was looking to branch out, which brought about the most recent disagreement with Rory.

                Although _www.Hartford-Harbinger.com_ had been up and running practically since day one, Paris wanted to spin off an all-new, all-online edition of the magazine.  It would have the same type of content as the print edition, but with different writers and articles.  The way she saw it, a free online edition would entice new readers into finding out more about the publication, and hopefully subscribing to the print format.  Rory, on the other hand, was firm in her protest that it was too big of an undertaking.  Not only would they need to expand their writing staff, a web design department would need to be added.  An outside contractor maintained their current site, and the cost would be prohibitive for continuing that on the scope Paris was interested in.

                After a two-hour debate that culminated in some much-needed yelling, Paris had announced that she was taking a late lunch, and huffed out of the office.  Which was how Rory ended up contemplating whether she wanted an amaretto stone sour or a strawberry daiquiri when she got home from work.

                Her ruminations were interrupted by the beep of the intercom.

                "Yes, Tracy?"

                "Ms. Hayden, there's a gentleman here to see Ms. Gellar.  Since she isn't in, he's requested a meeting with you."

                Rory bit back a sigh.  "Send him in."

                Her head was bent over an upcoming column when the knock came at the door.  Without looking up, she called out, "Come on in.  I'll be right with you."

                Wanting to finish one more paragraph, she returned to her reading, only to be interrupted by a male voice uttering "Mary."

                Startled, she looked up, straight into the piercing blue eyes of none other than Tristan DuGrey.

                "Tristan?  What are you doing here?"

                "Nice to see you too, Rory.  What's it been, ten years?"

                "Nine," she responded automatically.

                She regretted it immediately when he began to smirk.  "Been keeping track? Aw, I never knew you cared."

                Even after all this time, Rory couldn't stop the rosy flush from creeping up her neck and cheeks.  "Some things never change, do they?" she commented dryly.

                "Come on, you know you missed me."

                "Honestly?  I never gave it much thought, although my life _did _become strangely peaceful after your departure."

                "You wound me, Mary." For a split second, she thought she saw an expression of genuine hurt flicker across his face.  "So, who's the lucky guy?"

                Puzzled by the abrupt change in subject, she could only reply, "Excuse me?"

                "Your secretary called you Ms. Hayden…"

                She laughed suddenly at the absurdity of his misconception.  "Hayden is my father's last name.  I write under the pseudonym L.L. Hayden."

                His eyebrows went up suggestively.  "So you're _not_ married?"

                "Only to my work."

                "That's so sad.  Here I thought you'd be happily settled with Grocery Man, raising 2.4 kids and a dog."

                "As much as I'm enjoying this analysis of my personal life, you still haven't told me why you're here."

                "Paris told me to drop by if I was ever in the neighborhood, so here I am."

                "I didn't realize the two of you had kept in touch."

                "If it makes you feel any better, she never mentioned that the two of you worked together.  So I take it you're the other G in G & G Publishing?"

                Rory nodded.  "So what are you doing with yourself these days?"

                "Apparently, Chilton instilled an entrepreneurial spirit in all of us, because I started my own consulting firm.  We mainly do web design, but I'm looking for a new challenge."

                At his words, Rory felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She knew Paris would think Tristan was the perfect candidate for her expansion plans, and the thought of working side-by-side with him, every single day…  Keeping her tone casual, she said, "I always figured you more as the high-powered attorney or CEO type."

                "What, and go along with my father's life plan for me?" he scoffed.  "This was independent enough to shove in his face, and lucrative enough to make me happy."

                "The best of both worlds, huh?"

                "Something like that."  He glanced quickly at his watch.  "Look, I have someplace that I need to be.  Could you tell Paris that I stopped by?"

                "Sure.  I know she'll be sorry she missed you."

                Tristan stood slowly and extended his hand.  "It was good to see you again, Rory."

                She took the proffered hand, and ignored the warm tingles from the contact.  "You too."

                He started to leave, then stopped abruptly and turned around.  "I'm going to be in town for a few days.  Do you think it would be okay if I gave you a call, maybe we could go for coffee?"

                "Sure."

                He left without another word, and she leaned back in her leather desk chair, murmuring, "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine."

*              *                *

                Another hour went by before Paris returned to the office.  Rory was doing some research online when there was a tentative knock at her door.  Looking up, she saw her partner, appearing about as contrite as Paris ever got.

                "Can I come in?"

                "Sure.  I was just checking some numbers for that article on voting practices."

                "Oh, good.  Look, Rory, I just wanted to say that I might have pushed a little too hard this morning.  I still think we should expand, but I'm hoping we can come up with a plan that we could both live with."     

                Rory smiled.  "I'd like that.  By the way, Tristan stopped by to see you."

                Paris paled slightly, but tried to keep her voice nonchalant.  "Really?  What a blast from the past."

                "Save it, Gellar.  I know that you've kept in touch with him.  What I don't understand is why you felt it was necessary to be so secretive."

                "I just didn't think you'd care, that's all.  It's not like you two were really friends."

                "I wasn't really friends with anyone at Chilton, but that doesn't stop you from updating me on the latest antics of Madeline and Louise.  What gives?"

                Paris sighed.  "Look, Tristan caused a lot of difficulties between the two of us.  I just didn't think it was a good idea to dredge up past problems when things have been going pretty well."

                Rory nodded.  "Okay, but that doesn't explain why you never mentioned to him that you and I are partners."

                "You're just not going to let this go, are you?  Fine.  You want the truth?  We were in college before Tristan finally stopped 'casually' asking about you in conversation.  Whether you realized it or not, he was pretty hung up on you.  I didn't want to start him thinking he could be a part of your life again."

                "Paris, that was years ago.  We're all adults now.  I'd like to think we're all mature enough to put the past behind us and be friends.  Unless…_you're_ still pining for him."

                Paris snorted.  "Not likely.  You know that I love Jess.  Nothing is going to change that."

                "I still think it's weird that you ended up married to my step-cousin," Rory mumbled.

                "Yeah, well, _I_ still think it's weird that I ended up married before you."

                "True.  I suppose I should tell you—Tristan and I are probably going to go out for coffee while he's in town."

                "Okay.  Just…don't break his heart."

                "I doubt I could even if I wanted to."

                "You'd be surprised, Gilmore."

*              *                *

                Returning to her office, Paris closed and locked the door, then sat at her desk and dialed a familiar number.

                After two rings, she heard, "DuGrey speaking."

                "Hey Tristan.  I heard you stopped by."

                "Yeah, sorry I missed you.  So, were you ever going to bother mentioning that you were business partners with Rory Gilmore?"

                Paris stifled a groan.  Her day was seriously beginning to resemble the Spanish Inquisition.  "I didn't think you'd want to know."

                "Paris…" his tone was warning.

                "Fine, I didn't think you needed to know.  Rory was a part of your past.  I thought it would be best if she stayed that way."

                "Don't you think I should get to make that decision for myself?" he asked quietly.

                "It sounds like you already have," she snapped acidly.  "I hear you offered to take her for coffee."

                "News travels fast.  It's no big deal, just two old schoolmates catching up.  No different than a high school reunion, really."

                "Right.  No different at all.  Don't break her heart, Tristan."

                At the other end of the connection, he smiled sadly.  "I doubt I could even if I wanted to."

                "Just be careful.  Now when are you coming to see me?"

                "I have meetings all morning tomorrow.  Why don't we get together for lunch?"

                "Sounds good.  I have a proposition I think you'd be interested in."

                "Ooh, does Jess know?  And if he does, I must say that sounds kinky."

                "A _business_ proposition.  Mind out of the gutter, DuGrey."

                They arranged for a time and place to meet the following day, and then hung up.  Paris smiled grimly.  Life was about to get interesting.

_To be continued…_


	2. Someday my prince will come...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: PG

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Two: Someday my prince will come…

                At about four o'clock in the afternoon, Rory poked her head into Paris' office.  "I'm going to run downstairs to the coffee shop.  Do you want anything?"

                "No thanks, I already had two cups today."

                Rory gave her an incredulous stare.  "I will never understand you."

                "The feeling's mutual!" Paris yelled as her partner headed for the elevator.

                Rory stopped and inhaled deeply when she reached the lobby of the building.  Although there was a coffee maker in the G & G offices, Paris always brewed it, and it was really only suitable for emergencies.  Rory had the sneaking suspicion that Paris made decaf half the time.  Despite her own addiction, Rory had never become an expert coffee maker.  After all, that was what Luke was for!

                The small Caribou Coffee shop had only been open three months, but every employee knew Rory by name.  She didn't even have to order any more—they started fixing her usual as soon as she stepped in the door.  Although nothing would ever compare to Luke's coffee, at least these people didn't argue about giving it to her!

                A few minutes later, the coffee steaming hot and paid for, Rory turned to leave as she took her first sip.  She immediately ran directly into someone, splashing coffee all over his obviously expensive business suit.

                "Oh my gosh!  I am so sorry!" Rory exclaimed.  "Let me help you get cleaned up."

                As she fumbled for some napkins, the stranger reached out and placed a steadying hand on her arm.  "Don't worry about it.  My ex-girlfriend picked out this suit, and I never much cared for it."

                Finally glancing up, Rory was mesmerized by a pair of sparkling emerald eyes.  "I really am sorry," she murmured.

                "Like I said, it's no problem, Ms…"

                "Gilmore.  Lorelai Gilmore."

                "Ryan Salinger.  It's nice to meet you, Lorelai."

                "Please, call me Rory."

                He smiled, causing laugh lines to crinkle around his eyes.  "I think I prefer Lorelai, actually.  It's a beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

                She blushed, suddenly feeling like a teenager again.

                "Do you work here in the building, Mr. Salinger?  I don't remember seeing you before."

                "It's Ryan, and no, my partner and I came in from New York this morning.  I take it you work here?"

                "Yes, at G & G Publishing," she replied with a touch of pride.

                "Really?  I always wanted to crack into the literary world, but my mind decided I was more technologically oriented."

                She laughed, and his smile widened.  "Well, someone has to be."

                "I suppose that's true.  So tell me, Lorelai Gilmore, would a publishing maven such as yourself be willing to have dinner with a lowly techno geek?"

                "That would be nice."

                "I know it's short notice, but how about tonight?  I have to fly out tomorrow afternoon."

                "Okay.  Would seven o'clock at Morton's work for you?"

                "Sounds perfect."

                "Great.  I'll meet you there, then."

                Suddenly giddy, it took all of Rory's self-control not to skip all the way back to the elevator.  Once the doors slid shut, though, she let out an excited squeal, and happily pressed the button for the fourth floor.

                Paris was explaining something to Tracy when Rory reentered the office.  Her suspicions were immediately aroused by the beatific smile on the other girl's face.

                "What happened?  Not even _you_ come back looking that happy after getting coffee."

                "I have a date tonight!"

                Paris rolled her eyes.  "You're the only woman I know who goes for coffee and ends up with a date."

                Rory's brow furrowed.  "Um, I _have_ told you how my mom and Luke got together, right?"

                "Good point.  It must be a Gilmore thing.  So who's it with?"

                "His name is Ryan, and he's from New York.  I spilled my coffee on him, and then he asked me out."

                "New York?  I thought you took some sort of vow against long-distance relationships."

                A dark cloud seemed to settle over Rory's features.  She and Dean had endured a particularly messy break-up during her freshman year at Harvard.  When she spoke again, her tone was icy.  "I guess some vows are just meant to be broken."  She stalked into her office and shut the door loudly, stopping just short of outright slamming it.

*              *                *

                The voice mail light on Rory's phone was blinking, and she quickly dialed into the system.

                "Hi Rory, it's Tristan.  My flight got changed to tomorrow, but I'd still like to see you again.  Give me a call at 212-555-4574."

                Jotting down the number, she deleted the message and began to dial.

                "DuGrey speaking."

                "Hi, Tristan?"

                "Rory!  I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon."

                "Yeah, I just ran downstairs to get some coffee."

                "Speaking of coffee…I know it's kind of inconvenient for you, but is there any chance we could meet at Bradley tomorrow?  I really won't have time to go anywhere else before my flight."

                "The airport?  Sure, what time?"

                "1:30?  I don't think I'll be able to get there any earlier."

                "That sounds fine.  Where do you want to meet?"

                "How about the United first-class check-in counter?"

                "Leave it to you to fly first class."

                "Well, like you said, some things never change."

                "I find that oddly comforting, somehow.  I'll see you tomorrow, Tristan."

                "Looking forward to it."

                They hung up, and Rory returned to her work.  Tristan pocketed his cell phone, and glanced up to see his partner entering the hotel lobby.

                "Hey RJ.  Did you have a productive day?"

                "More than you can imagine buddy.  You don't need me at all tonight, do you?"

                "Nope.  Go out, have fun, paint the town red."

                "Gee, thanks, dad.  What are you going to do?  It's a big city, Tristan—I'm sure you could find one clueless woman to put up with you."

                "Not interested."

                "You know, once upon a time, you were quite the ladies' man.  What the hell happened?"

                "What always happens?  There was a girl…"

                "Save me the sob story.  I have to go get ready."

                "Suit yourself.  Just don't call me at 2:30 in the morning needing bail."

*              *                *

                Rory gave herself one last look in the mirror.  Morton's was pretty dressy, but she was trying to balance that with the fact that she had only met Ryan today.  Finally, she had settled on a sleeveless blue sweater-dress.  Smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle, she sprayed on a bit of perfume and headed out.

                The Hartford summer night was warm and breezy, and she had no trouble hailing a cab.  The car from Dean had wheezed its last breath several years earlier, and she had never bothered to replace it.

                The cab pulled up to the restaurant at five minutes to seven, and she was pleased to see that Ryan was already there, waiting outside for her.  He smiled when he saw her approach.

                "I hope you haven't been waiting long," she began.

                "Only a few minutes.  My mother taught me to never keep a beautiful lady waiting, so I was a little early."

                "You'll have to thank your mother for me."

                He held out his arm. "Shall we?"

                "We shall."

                Being a Tuesday night, the restaurant wasn't too crowded, and they were seated almost immediately.  As they perused their menus, Ryan asked, "So what exactly do you do at G & G?"

                Rory took a sip of wine before responding.  "A little bit of everything, really.  I'm one of the firm's founding partners, but I do a lot of writing and editing for the _Harbinger_."

                "Is that so?  I have a subscription, but I don't remember seeing your name."

                She chuckled softly.  "I publish under the name L.L. Hayden.  I figured since the company bears my mother's last name, my father deserved some credit as well."

                "_You're_ L.L. Hayden?  I've been an avid fan since the magazine first started.  I particularly enjoyed your piece on the Internet taking over the world."

                She smiled at his praise.  "That was one of my favorites too.  One day, as I was ordering something online, I realized that I could comfortably live my life without ever leaving my apartment.  I suppose that's been true for years, but it got me thinking what would happen if everyone actually did that."

                "Well I, for one, loved what you had to say.  It was a perfect balance between outrageously funny and utterly terrifying."

                She blushed.  "Well, I appreciate that.  Now, tell me a little bit about you."

                "It's not particularly exciting, really.  I grew up in Chicago, but I absolutely fell in love with the East when I went to Yale.  I majored in computer engineering, and after graduation I went to work for Ernst & Young back in Illinois.  About two years ago, I decided that a big corporation wasn't where I wanted to be.  I started looking, and that's how I ended up at a much smaller company in New York."

                "What's the name of it?"

                "ILRG, Inc.  I doubt you've heard of it, but we've managed to wrestle some great contracts away from the Big 4."

                "Sounds exciting."

                He shrugged.  "Sometimes.  It's still just a job, though.  So are you originally from around here?"

                "From a small town outside the city, actually.  I do have family in Hartford, though, and I went to high school here."

                "Do you ever think about leaving?"

                "Not really.  Going to Massachusetts for college was far enough.  My mom and I are really close, and I can't imagine being halfway across the country."

                "Any brothers or sisters?"

                "Two half brothers and three half sisters," Rory grinned.  "My dad has an eight-year-old daughter and a six-year-old son, and my mom has a five-year-old son and twin two-year-old daughters."

                "Wow, that sounds like quite a family."

                "Oh, it is.  Quite a switch from being an only child for eighteen years, too."

                "I'll bet."

                Their food arrived a few minutes later, and conversation lulled.  They primarily made small talk, chatting about the economy and politics.  As they waited for coffee and dessert to arrive, the discussion resumed a more personal slant.

                "So tell me, Lorelai, how is it that someone like you is still single?"

                Rory shrugged.  "Well, the magazine takes up a lot of my time.  Plus, I guess I've just never felt like I was with the right person—the one that causes that special spark, who you don't just imagine being able to live with, but rather can't imagine living without."

                He smiled indulgently.  "That's rather idealistic, don't you think?"

                "Maybe.  Even now, though, I still believe in fairy tales."

                The coffee had arrived, and Ryan raised his cup in a mock toast.  "Well, here's to finding your Prince Charming.  It just might happen sooner than you think."

                She laughed softly and nodded, returning the salute.

                When dinner was finally over, Ryan insisted on driving her home.

                "I had a really nice time tonight, Lorelai.  I'd like to see you again."

                "I had fun, too, Ryan.  But don't you think it will be hard, with you in New York?"

                He reached out and brushed a finger lightly across her cheek.  "I believe it's worth the effort."  He leaned in and kissed her softly, pulling back before it could intensify.  "What do you think?"

                "I think it's worth a try."

                He smiled, and they exchanged numbers, then shared one more kiss before Rory exited the car.

                As she unlocked the door to her apartment building, she thought, _Maybe it _will_ happen sooner than I think._

_To be continued…_


	3. Don't underestimate the power of the For...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: PG

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Three: Don't underestimate the power of the Force…

                "Jess?" Paris called as she walked into their apartment.

                "In the kitchen!" he yelled back.

                She kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen.  The aroma of garlic assailed her nostrils, and she breathed in the heady scent of her husband's homemade spaghetti sauce.  Paris had to smile at the sight of Jess bent over the stove, a wooden spoon at his lips, and his jean-clad backside giving her all sorts of tempting ideas.  Crossing the room to stand behind him, she looped her arms around his waist and planted a kiss on his neck.  Jess twisted in her embrace and caught her mouth with his.  Breaking apart in order to breathe, Paris licked her lips and remarked, "You taste good."

                "Thanks.  So do you.  How was work?"

                Paris let go of him with a sigh, and went to get a soda out of the fridge.  "Okay, I guess.  Rory and I still can't agree on the Internet edition, though.  And…Tristan stopped by."

                Jess paused in mid-stir.  "Did he see Rory?"

                "Yes.  Actually, I was at lunch when he got there, so I guess he spoke with her instead."

                "How did that go?"

                "Fine, as far as I know.  I wish I had been there, though—I can almost always see through his masks."

                "He's a big boy, Paris."

                "Yes, but she broke his heart once, and she doesn't even know.  And now they're supposed to go out for coffee."

                Jess removed the sauce from the heat, and dumped the noodles into a colander in the sink.  "Try not to worry unless something actually happens, Frenchie."

                "I can't help it.  I'm an expert worrier."

                "Well, then, I guess I'll just have to come up with a way to relax you later on," he said suggestively.

                "Sounds wonderful."

*              *              *

                "Hello?"

                Rory smiled at the sound of her little brother's voice.  "Hi, Billy.  Is mom there?"

                "Rory!  Guess what?  At the park today Tommy and I were playing on the swings and Mr. Taylor told us we were swinging too high and we'd get hurt and then he stepped in a hole and fell down!"

                "Wow, it sounds like you had an exciting day.  Now can I please talk to mom?"

                "'Kay."

                Rory heard a clatter as the phone was unceremoniously dropped, and Billy hollered, "Mom!  Phone!"

                Several seconds later, Lorelai's voice came through the receiver.  "Hello?"

                "Hi mom."

                "Rory!  Hey sweetie, what's up?  Did you win a Nobel Prize or something?"

                "That's Pulitzer Prize, and no.  But I did go on a date tonight."

                "Ooh, details!  Blind or sighted?"

                "Sighted."

                "Name?"

                "Ryan."

                "Occupation?"

                "Professional computer geek."

                "Cute?"

                "Definitely."

                "Where'd you meet?"

                "Coffee shop in the lobby of my building."

                "Well, he obviously has taste."

                "Obviously."

                "When are you seeing him again?"

                "I'm not sure.  He kind of, um, lives in New York."

                "Oh."

                "It's not _that_ far away, mom."

                "I know.  I was just hoping…"

                "That I would meet a nice neighborhood coffee purveyor, settle down, and get married?"

                "No, that you would meet someone from Connecticut."

                "I haven't exactly had much luck with Connecticut boys."

                "Boy.  Singular.  Dean.  Stupid."

                "Mom…"

                "Fine.  At least you didn't marry Jess."

                "News flash—he's your nephew too now."

                "Scary."

                "Speaking of scary, you'll never guess who I saw today."

                "Rob Lowe?"

                "Um, no.  Tristan."

                "Tristan?"

                "DuGrey?  From Chilton?  Tormented me?"

                "Ah, _that_ Tristan."

                "You know more than one?"

                "No.  Is he still evil?"

                "Not noticeably so, but I didn't have the demon detector switched on."

                "Have I taught you nothing?"

                "We're having coffee tomorrow."

                "Wow, two days, two dates, two guys."

                "It's not a date."

                "Does he know that?"

                "Mom, it's Tristan.  He probably has fifteen girlfriends back in New York."

                "Another New Yorker?"

                "Apparently there was a mass exodus after everyone realized how overrated the Yankees are."

                "Took them long enough.  Hey, Emma's crying.  Gotta go."

                "Okay.  Love you."

                "You too."

                Rory grinned as she hung up the phone.  Talking to Lorelai always made her feel as though she was back in Stars Hollow.  Her life in Hartford was great, but no place else could ever truly be home.

*              *              *

                "Rory, I'm leaving for my lunch with Tristan," Paris announced as she stepped into Rory's office.

                "Okay.  I'll probably be on my way to meet him myself when you get back."

                "Are you sure you don't just want to come to lunch with us?"

                "No, I have some things I want to get finished.  Besides, this way you can vent about my irrational fear of expansion."

                Paris grinned.  "I will convince you, Gilmore.  Don't underestimate the power of the Force."

                "Oh good Lord, now Jess has you quoting _Star Wars_?"

                "Hey, just because I didn't see it until I was twenty-two doesn't mean I can't appreciate it now."

                "Whatever, Jedi Master.  Now go, or you'll be late for lunch."

                "I'm going.  Geez."

                No sooner had Paris left than Rory's phone rang.

                "Lorelai Hayden."

                "Hi Lorelai, it's Ryan."

                "Hi!  I didn't think you'd call until you were back in New York."

                "I guess I just couldn't wait that long.  Anyway, I was wondering if you might be able to join me for a quick lunch."

                "Oh, I'd love to, but I really can't.  I'm swamped at work, and then I'm meeting an old friend for coffee this afternoon.  Can I take a rain check?"

                "Sure," he replied, disappointment in his voice.

                "I really do want to see you again.  I was, uh, actually thinking of taking a weekend trip to New York later this month."

                "Really?  That'll be great!  Hey, I'm losing my cellular signal.  Call me at home tonight!"

                The phone disconnected before Rory had a chance to respond.  As she hung up, she pondered what she had told Ryan.  She _hadn't_ been planning a trip, but now that she had said the words, it seemed like a pretty good idea…

*              *              *

                Walking into the small café, Paris immediately caught sight of Tristan's blonde head.  She also noticed the appreciative glances he was receiving from several of the waitresses.

                He smiled and stood up when he saw her approaching.  As soon as she was within reach, he swept her into a bear hug.

                Stepping back, he declared, "Paris, it's been far too long."

                "Yes it has, and whose fault is that?"

                He looked sheepish.  "Guilty as charged.  I meant to come to the wedding, but…"

                "But you were too afraid of running smack into your past?"

                He sighed.  "I'm going to have to plead the fifth."

                "Coward."

                "If that were true, would I be meeting Rory for coffee today?"

                "Tristan, be honest with me.  Do you still have feelings for her?"

                He ran a hand through his hair, reminding Paris of their Chilton days.  "It's been so long, I don't even know Rory any more.  But when I saw her yesterday, there was still that spark, you know?  I've never been able to get her completely out of my head.  I always wondered if we could have ever been…more."

                "In all the years before we met her, I never knew you to truly care about anyone.  What is it about her?"

                "Paris, we both know I was pretty much a bastard in those days.  Rory made me feel like that wasn't who I had to be.  It was almost like…finding the missing piece of myself."

                "That's how I felt when I met Jess," she murmured.

                "How is he?  By the way, you look great.  Married life obviously agrees with you."

                Her features softened, and the love in her eyes was obvious.  "He's fine.  Work keeps us both busy, but we manage.  At first, the whole good-girl-falls-for-bad-boy thing seemed so clichéd that I even made _myself_ nauseous.  I didn't want to fall for him, but I finally realized that he was exactly what I needed."

                "I'm happy for you."

                She grinned.  "Of course, it got a lot easier once I finally came to the realization that you and I would have killed each other if we ever actually tried dating."

                "Happy I could help," he remarked dryly.

                "Seriously, though, do you think meeting her for coffee is a good idea?"

                "It's something I need to do, if for no other reason than to try and put her behind me."

                "Really?"

                "Really.  I promise I won't do anything stupid, like propose."

                "That's not funny, Tristan."

                He laughed bitterly.  "You worry too much.  I just have one question—does she have a boyfriend?"

                "No.  Although, she did go on a date last night.  What difference does it make?  I thought you weren't going to do anything stupid."

                "I'm not!  I just…wondered."

                "Sure you did."

*              *              *

                Stepping out of the cab, Rory quickly paid the driver and headed into the airport.  Bradley International wasn't very big, and she had no trouble finding the United counters.  There were a surprising number of people in line, and she scanned the crowd for a few minutes before finally catching sight of Tristan.  He was near the head of the line, and she decided to wait until he finished checking in before approaching him.

                She saw him step away from the counter a few minutes later, and he immediately began looking around, presumably for her.  Trying to catch his eye, she waved, and he broke into a wide grin when he spotted her.

                They quickly closed the distance between them, and to Rory's surprise, he pulled her into a hug.

                "I'm so glad you could make it!" he said.  "Sorry we couldn't go someplace nicer."

                "I don't mind.  Besides, it's good to get out of the city once in a while.  So did you have a nice lunch with Paris?"

                "Yeah.  In so many ways she hasn't changed, but Jess has really been good for her."

                "She's been good for him, too.  Actually, I'm kind of surprised you weren't at the wedding."

                He glanced away guiltily.  "Yeah, I wanted to go, but…"

                Sensing that he didn't want to talk about it, she quickly said, "So how about that coffee?"

                "I just need to tell my partner something first.  Here he comes.  Rory, I'd like you to meet…"

                Rory turned, and her eyes widened in shock.  "Ryan?"

                "Lorelai?"

                "RJ?"

                "Tristan?"

_To be continued…_


	4. You break her heart, I'll break your fac...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: PG

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

A/N: **WARNING!! Major Tristan angst ahead!**

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Four: You break her heart, I'll break your face…

                "You two know each other?" the three of them asked simultaneously.

                They all laughed uncomfortably, then stood there in stunned silence for several seconds.  It was Tristan who finally spoke up.  His voice was strained as he asked, "How exactly did you two meet?"

                Rory flushed slightly.  "I ran into him—literally—at a coffee shop yesterday."

                Tristan was relieved—it had only been an innocent chance encounter.

                Then Ryan spoke up.  "And last night, we went out to dinner.  Now it looks like she'll be coming to New York for a visit soon."

                Tristan's heart plummeted, but he tried to shrug it off.  After all, this meeting was supposed to help him put Rory in the past, once and for all.  He should be happy that she was dating his friend and business partner.

                But he wasn't.

                Rory was getting concerned by his sudden silence.  "Are you okay, Tristan?"

                He forced a laugh.  "Yeah.  I was just thinking about what a small world it is."

                Ryan was still confused.  "I don't get it.  How do you two know each other?"

                "We went to high school together for a little over a year," Rory explained calmly.

                _Oh, and by the way, she's the only girl I've ever really loved, Tristan thought to himself._

                Ryan chuckled.  "Wow, that is pretty amazing.  So he's the old friend you were meeting for coffee?"

                Rory nodded an affirmative.  "I'm so glad I get to see both of you now!"

                Suddenly, Tristan felt very much like a third wheel.  "You know what?  Why don't the two of you go on without me?  Rory and I can catch up some other time."

                Her face fell.  "Tristan, no.  I came out here to see you."

                He waved his hand dismissively.  "It's no big deal, really.  I'm sure you'd much rather get to know Ryan better."  Turning to his friend, he said, "I'll see you on the plane."

                Before he could walk away, Rory reached out to give him another hug.  "Let's not let another nine years go by, okay?" she said quietly.

                He nodded into her shoulder, not trusting his voice.  Breaking out of her embrace, he quickly walked away.

                When Tristan was gone, Ryan turned to her and said, "So, coffee?"

                She inclined her head in agreement, refusing to acknowledge the pang of disappointment she felt at Tristan's departure.

*              *              *

                Tristan proceeded quickly through the security checkpoint and walked rapidly towards his gate.  He found a seat away from the rest of the passengers and pulled out his cell phone.

                "Paris Gellar."

                "Hey, it's me."

                "What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

                "It turns out God has a sense of humor, and today the joke's on me."

                "What happened?"

                "You know that date Rory went on last night?  It was with none other than my business partner, Ryan Salinger.  I discovered this when I foolishly started to introduce them."

                "Oh, Tristan!" Paris' voice was filled with sympathy.  "What did you do?"

                "I begged off joining them for coffee; made some excuse about how the two of them should spend time together."

                "Rory just let you leave?"

                "No, she tried to stop me, although not very hard."

                "Maybe this is for the best," Paris said tentatively.

                Tristan sighed heavily.  "Yeah.  Maybe."

*              *              *

                Rory and Ryan sat sipping their coffee, an awkward silence between them.

                "Are you okay with this?" Ryan finally asked.

                Rory looked up in surprise.  "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

                "No!  It's just…don't you think it's a little strange?"

                She shrugged.  "Maybe a little.  I mean, I haven't seen him in nine years, and now this."

                "You guys…you didn't date in high school, did you?"

                Rory laughed.  "No.  We didn't even get along very well."

                He looked relieved.  "Good, because it would have been weird, knowing you kissed him and stuff."

                "Actually…" Rory dropped her gaze guiltily.

                "You kissed him?!"

                "Just once!" she hastened to explain.  "We had both just broken up with other people, and it sort of…happened."

                He still didn't look convinced, and she reached out and placed a hand over his.  "Is this going to be a problem?  It was so long ago, and it didn't even mean anything."

                "No, of course not.  It just took me by surprise."

                Rory smiled.  "Good, because I really do want to get to know you better."

                "I'd like that."

*              *              *

                Tristan was absorbed in the latest issue of _Forbes when Ryan finally boarded the plane.  He sat down beside his partner and buckled his seatbelt without a word.  The silence persisted all through the preflight safety instructions._

                "Do you have a problem with this?" Ryan asked quietly.

                Tristan feigned ignorance.  "Do I have a problem with what?"

                Frustrated, Ryan swatted the magazine away from Tristan.  "Don't bullshit me, T.  You know I'm talking about Lorelai."

                "Why should that matter to me?"

                "She told me you guys kissed."

                His heart clenched, but he didn't let it show.  "And?"

                "And she said it happened once and didn't mean anything."

                Tristan picked up the magazine and began paging through it again.  "Then obviously it didn't mean anything."

                Aware that he was being dismissed, Ryan leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

*              *              *

                Paris' door was closed when Rory got back to work, so she went straight to her own office.  She was just delving into a stack of articles to be edited when the phone rang.

                "Lorelai Hayden."

                "Rory?"

                "Lane!  Hi, how are you?"

                "I've had better days.  I finished a thirty-six-hour shift this morning, and I'm on again tonight."

                Lane had graduated from medical school earlier that year, and was in her first year of residency at a hospital in Boston.

                "Ugh, why aren't you sleeping?"

                "I just woke up, actually.  So what's new with you?"

                Rory quickly filled her best friend in on her recent encounters with Tristan and Ryan.

                "I am so jealous, Rory.  I can't even remember the last time I saw an attractive guy not wearing a lab coat.  I so need a date."

                "What, you mean being a doctor isn't really like it was on _ER, where everybody slept with everyone else?" Rory teased._

                Lane snorted.  "Not even close.  Most of us are lucky to sleep, period."

                "Tell me again why you wanted to do this?"

                "Right now, I honestly can't even remember."

                "Sounds like you need a vacation."

                "Funny you should say that.  I actually have a weekend off later this month, and I was thinking we could road-trip somewhere.  Based on your recent boy adventures, I think New York sounds like fun."

                Rory laughed.  "Same old Lane."

                "So tell me more about Tristan.  Is he hot?  Maybe the four of us could go out."

                "I don't know if I'd call him hot, exactly.  He's…_Tristan."_

                "Well, what _does he look like?"_

                "Hmm.  Blond hair, blue eyes, about six feet tall, athletic build…"

                "So in other words, he's hot."

                "Tell you what—you can let me know if he's hot or not after you meet him."

                "Fair enough."

                "So what else is new with you?"

                "Well, now that my mother has finally ventured onto the Internet, she keeps e-mailing me pictures of eligible Korean men."

                "You're kidding me.  Where does she find them?"

                "I have no idea.  It's not like Stars Hollow has a high Korean population, and she never seems to go anywhere."

                "It is a mystery."

                "Have you gone home at all since we last talked?"

                "No, I haven't been back since the Fourth of July.  I've just been too busy lately.  Plus, the house is pretty crazy now."

                "I still can't believe your mom and Luke have three children under the age of six."

                "Sometimes, neither can they!  Hey, it was really great talking to you, Lane, but I need to get back to work."

                "Okay.  Let me know about New York."

                "Will do.  'Bye."

                "'Bye."

*              *              *

                Tristan opened the door to his apartment and carelessly dropped his bags in the hallway.  Although it was only a short hop from Hartford to New York, he felt completely exhausted.  He told RJ he wasn't feeling well, and was taking the rest of the day off.  Ah, the perks of being the boss.

                He flipped on some lights as he walked further into the apartment.  The shades had been closed during his trip to keep the summer sun from turning the place into an oven.  He went to open them, and stood for a few minutes admiring the panoramic view of Central Park.

                Turning, he surveyed the rest of his home.  Everything was immaculate, the work of an interior decorator giving it a casual elegance.  And yet, it was cold.

                He thought back to the short time he had spent in Rory's office.  It contained a bookcase, one shelf of which held a copy of every back issue of the _Harbinger.  The rest of the shelves were crammed with reference books, as well as some prized editions from Rory's personal collection.  There were framed photos littering every flat surface in the room—of friends, family, neighbors, even the Stars Hollow gazebo.  There were several plants, in varying stages of health, lining the windowsill.  A small couch in one corner of the office was accented with what appeared to be homemade pillows.  The accompanying coffee table held a vase of fresh flowers, a candle, and a hardcover book about Stars Hollow.  There were Beanie Babies, a Slinky, and some PEZ dispensers nestled on top of and beside her computer monitor._

                In short, her office was more of a home than his apartment.  He flopped down sadly on the expensive Italian leather sofa in his living room.  He didn't deserve someone as amazing as Rory, and it was about time he started getting used to that idea.

_To be continued…_


	5. And who are you, Jess, the Happiness Gur...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

A/N: I know, I know, there hasn't been enough Trory action.  Well, you probably won't find it in this installment, either.  I promise though—in part 6, things will start to get _really interesting.  Also, please note that the rating has been increased from PG to R.  Although what is found in this chapter could probably pass as PG-13, I can't make any promises for what may occur in the future.  Please proceed accordingly._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Five: And who are you, Jess, the Happiness Guru?

                A week and a half had gone by since Tristan and Ryan flew back to New York.  Rory and Ryan had spoken on the phone nearly every night since then, and there was an e-mail from him every morning when she got to work.  She and Lane were planning to go for a visit the following weekend.

                From Tristan, though, Rory had heard nothing.  She was pretty sure he had spoken to Paris, but they had been avoiding the subject.  In fact, the relationship between the partners had been strained lately, and tempers were beginning to fray.  This was a fact not lost on Jess.

                It was eleven o'clock on a Saturday night.  Jess was sitting up in bed, rereading _A Farewell to Arms.  Paris lay beside him, trying to write up a proposal for the online magazine that wouldn't give Rory a coronary.  The reading glasses that she hated to wear kept slipping down the bridge of her nose; her long hair was pulled into a messy bun secured with two pencils.  Her fingers were dotted with blue ink stains from her favorite antique fountain pen, and she was chewing on her lower lip as she concentrated.  Jess couldn't help but get turned on._

                Carefully placing a bookmark between the pages—a habit he picked up from Rory—he gently laid the book on the nightstand and rolled onto his side.  Propping himself up on one elbow, he gazed intently at his wife and waited for her to notice.

                Eventually, she turned and glared at him over the top of her glasses.  "What?" she snapped.

                Ever so slowly, he reached out and withdrew one of the pencils from her hair, then brushed the fallen tendrils back behind her ear.

                "Jess…"

                "You know, you've been awfully tense lately," he murmured huskily.

                She sighed heavily.  "I know.  It's just…"

                "Tristan and Rory, right?"  He pulled out the other pencil, and watched her hair tumble around her shoulders.  "Paris, they're both adults.  You have to let them live their lives."

                "I know; it's just…" A breathy sigh escaped her as Jess scooted closer and nudged one of her pajama straps off her shoulder.  "I don't want to see Tristan get hurt."

                "What about Rory?" he asked, his fingertips trailing down her collarbone and dipping into the valley between her full breasts before beginning to work open her top button.  "Don't you want her to be happy?"

                "Yes," she moaned, arching slightly into his touch.  "Of course I want her to be happy.  I just wish…" she gasped as the second button came free, and his thumb grazed her nipple.  "…that those two things didn't have to be mutually exclusive."

                "Paris?"

                "Hmm?" she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.

                "I really don't want to talk about Tristan and Rory anymore."

                She didn't argue as his lips descended and he began to devour her mouth.

*              *              *

                Monday morning, Rory knocked softly on Paris' office door.  Much to her relief, Paris looked up and smiled.  "Come on in, Rory."

                Smirking, Rory took a seat.  "Somebody got lucky this weekend."

                "Married people occasionally do," she replied dryly.

                "Well, I'm glad to see you…happy.  Things have seemed a little icy around here lately."

                Paris just nodded.

                Rory braced herself.  This wasn't going to be easy.  "Well, I couldn't help but notice that it started around the same time I met Ryan."

                "So what's you point?"

                "Paris, do you have a problem with me dating Ryan?"

                "You don't think the circumstances are the slightest bit unusual?"

                "Why, because he works with Tristan?  Sure, it's a weird coincidence, but it's not like I'm dating an ex-boyfriend's business partner."

                Paris just stared at her.  "You really don't get it, do you?"

                "What is there to get?"

                "Look, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."

                "I'm sorry, when did we revert to the fifth grade?"

                "I didn't even know you in the fifth grade."

                "That is so not the point."

                "Just think about this, Rory—your words, your actions, have consequences for other people, whether you realize it or not."

                "What are you _talking about, Paris?"_

                "Just think about it."

                "Fine.  I came in to let you know that on Friday I'll be thinking about it in New York.  Lane and I are going there for the weekend."

                This gave Paris pause.  "Are you going to see Ryan?"

                "Well, yeah.  We'll probably see Tristan, too, since we'll be in town, and we didn't really get to talk before."

                "Right.  Since you'll be in town and all."

                "Yeah.  Besides, Lane wants to meet Tristan."

                Paris dropped the pen she had been tapping against the desk onto the floor.  "You have _got to be kidding me."_

                "You know what?  I have no idea what is going on with you these days.  Maybe you can let me in on the secret if and when you figure it out yourself."  Angrily, she marched out of the office.

                "Rory!"  But Rory was already gone.

*              *              *

                Three hours later, sitting in her own office, Rory was still trying to figure out what Paris had meant.  Logic wasn't working.  Reason wasn't working.  So, she called her mother.

                "Independence Inn.  How may I help you?"  The heavily accented voice was instantly recognizable.

                "Hi, Michel.  It's Rory.  Is my mom there?"

                "I am not her perzonal zecretary, you know."

                "Michel, please."

                "Fine."

                She could hear him say, "Woman, zee oldest fruit of your loins eez on zee phone."

                "Hey babe.  What's shakin'?"

                "Hi mom.  Paris is insane."

                "And this is news how?"

                "It's not news, really.  It's just that, um, you've been accused of, um, being a little unstable yourself, so I was hoping you could help me figure her out."

                "I'm going to tell Luke you called me unstable."

                "He'll agree with me."

                "Hmph.  That's true.  So, fill me in."

                When Rory finished telling the story, Lorelai was quiet.  Finally, she said, "Well, it obviously has to do with Tristan."

                Rory rolled her eyes, even though her mother couldn't see it.  "Well, golly, Inspector Holmes, I never could have guessed _that.  Care to be more specific?"_

                "If you mock me, I won't help you, Watson.  And don't roll your eyes at me."

                "You haven't got a clue, have you?"

                "Oh no, I most definitely have a clue.  I just happen to agree with Paris—you need to figure this one out on your own."

                "Argh!"  Exasperated, Rory hung up on her mother.  It was a conspiracy.  A conspiracy, I tell you!

*              *              *

                Lane drove in from Boston on Thursday night, and Friday morning, she and Rory were ready to go.  As Lane hoisted Rory's small suitcase into the trunk, she paused and looked at her best friend.

                "Are you sure you want to do this?"

                "Of course.  Why do you ask?"

                "Just checking.  I know this whole Paris/Tristan thing has been bothering you."

                Rory sighed.  "Yes, it has.  That's why one of the things I want to do this weekend is talk to Tristan.  No one else seems willing to give me a straight answer.  I'm hoping he will."

                "I hope so, too.  Now come on, I want to have lots of time to spend at the Met!"

                The drive to New York passed quickly.  It was a gorgeous sunny day in August, and they had the windows rolled down and the music blasting.  They sang along at the top of their lungs, and periodically collapsed into fits of giggles.

                It was late morning when they arrived in Manhattan.  Rory had decided to splurge and get them a room at the Plaza.  They parked Lane's car and got checked in, then walked down 5th Avenue to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Their first stop was the display of Arms and Armor, where they oohed and aahed over swords and daggers.  They moved through the vast museum slowly, admiring sculptures by Rodin, ancient Egyptian art, and the Temple of Dendur.

                Several hours later, they decided to take advantage of the rest of the beautiful summer day.  The museum backed up to Central Park, and the paths were crowded with in-line skaters, joggers, people with dogs on leashes, and young mothers with infants in strollers.  Rory and Lane bought hot dogs and soft pretzels from vendors, and then sat on a bench and watched the people go by.

                Taking a large bite out of her hot dog, Rory asked, "So what else do you want to do this weekend?"

                Lane chewed thoughtfully for a moment.  "Hmm.  Tomorrow I'd like to go shopping on 5th Avenue, maybe check out Rockefeller Center and St. Patrick's Cathedral.  Sunday I'd like to do more sightseeing—go out to the Statue of Liberty, go up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building, and if we have time, visit the September 11th memorial."

                "Anything else?" Rory asked teasingly.

                "Tonight, of course, I expect Ryan and Tristan to show us an incredible night on the town."

                Rory shifted in her seat, and refused to meet Lane's eyes.  "Um, I've been meaning to talk to you about that…"

                Lane's brow furrowed.  "Why?  What's wrong?"

                "Nothing…exactly.  I mean, Ryan's definitely coming tonight, but he's still not sure about Tristan."

                "Rory!  I didn't come this weekend to play the third wheel!"

                "I know, and I'm sorry!  Ryan just told me yesterday that Tristan still needed some convincing."

                Lane reached over and pulled Rory's cell phone out of her purse.  "Then _you convince him."_

                "Lane, I don't know…"

                "Rory, please.  Do it for me."

                Sighing, Rory quickly scrolled through her phone book for Tristan's number and pressed "talk."

                "DuGrey speaking."

                "Tristan?  It's Rory."

_To be continued…_


	6. It was like coming home, only to no home...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: PG

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N:  Sorry this part took a little bit longer to get out than the others.  I hope it was worth the wait.  As promised, there is Trory interaction in this chapter, although it will probably be quite a while before the situation is resolved.  The plot that is floating around in my head is rather complex, and I anticipate it turning into a long story.  I hope you're all willing to come along for the ride.

Also, for anyone who might actually care, the chapter titles are all quotes from some of my favorite movies.  A few of them I have altered slightly to suit my needs.

*"Of all the gin joints" is from _Casablanca_, which, okay, I've never seen, but it fit the Trory dynamic

*"Someday my Prince will come…" is from _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_, which is actually one of my least favorite Disney cartoons, yet I have it on DVD

*"Don't underestimate the power of the Force…" is from _Star Wars_ (duh)

*"You break her heart, I'll break your face…" should actually be "You break his heart, I'll break your face…" from _Some Kind of Wonderful_

*"And who are you, Jess, the Happiness Guru?" should actually be "And who are you, Jack, the Happiness Guru?" from _While You Were Sleeping_

*"It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known…" is from _Sleepless in Seattle_ (sigh)

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Six: It was like coming home, only to no home I'd ever known…

                "Oh, hello, Rory."  Tristan's voice was neutral, expressionless.

                "So, um, how are you?"

                "Fine."

                Rory closed her eyes briefly.  This was _not_ going well.  "Oh.  Good.  Well, Ryan was telling me that he wasn't sure if you were coming out with us tonight."

                On the other end of the line, the normally debonair Tristan DuGrey was struggling to maintain his composure.  "Yeah, I'm just not really feeling up to it."

                "Oh."  He cringed as he heard the disappointment in her voice.  "Is there any way I can change your mind?"

                "Look, I really don't want to intrude…"

                "But you wouldn't be intruding at all!  Lane will be there too, and besides…I'd really like to see you."

                He didn't respond right away, and she added, "Please, Tristan?"

                Damn her.  He still couldn't deny her, couldn't resist the plea in her voice.  Resigned to his fate, he said, "Okay.  I'll be there."

                "Yay!"  He could hear her clap her hands like a giddy schoolgirl—something, he reflected, she had never actually been.  "I'm so glad you're coming!  We're going to have so much fun!"

                In spite of himself, Tristan couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm.  "I'm sure we will.  I'll see you tonight, Rory."

                "Sounds good!  'Bye!"

                Hitting the "end" button, he shook his head, marveling at how easily Rory Gilmore could reduce him to an acquiescing moron.

                When Rory hung up the phone, Lane grinned at her best friend.  "Thank you.  I really do appreciate it."

                "I know, and you're welcome.  Now come on, I want to see the _Alice in Wonderland_ statue!"

                "Okay, but then we're heading over to Strawberry Fields."

                "Deal."

*              *                *

                Promptly at seven o'clock that night, the phone in Rory and Lane's hotel room rang.  Since Lane was in the bathroom, Rory hurried over to pick it up.

                "Hello?"

                "Lorelai?  It's Ryan.  Tristan and I are in the lobby."

                "Oh, good!  Lane and I will be down in just a few minutes."

                "Great."

                Hanging up, Rory called out to her best friend, "Lane, the guys are downstairs!"

                "I'll be ready in a minute!" came the muffled reply.

                Rory quickly applied a fresh coat of lipstick, slipped on her shoes, and when Lane was ready, the pair headed downstairs.

                Standing in the lobby of the opulent hotel, Tristan couldn't help thinking that coming tonight was a mistake.  Watching RJ and Rory together was downright masochistic.  On top of that, he sensed a matchmaking scheme with this Lane girl.  If she was a friend of Rory's, he was certain she was a nice person, but she still wasn't…Rory.

                He sighed and fought the urge to run his hand through his hair.  Every time he did, he ended up looking vaguely like a Cabbage Patch Kid.

                All that stopped mattering when the elevator doors slid open and Rory and an attractive Asian girl whom he assumed to be Lane stepped out.  The beauty of the surrounding décor paled in comparison to Rory's radiance.  He had always known she was beautiful—he just didn't remember her being _this_ beautiful.  The dark blue dress she wore seemed to shimmer in the light, and when she moved, it appeared purple.  The form-fitting bodice clung to her curves, and the gauzy knee-length skirt floated and swirled around her shapely legs.  Her hair was pulled back into an elegant twist, while a few wispy tendrils framed her face.  Her face…it really hadn't changed that much since high school.  She was wearing a little more make-up than she ever had at Chilton, but it only served to complement her porcelain complexion, the smoky gray eye shadow accentuating the blueness of her eyes.  And when she smiled…oh Lord, when she smiled, he was certain he could die a happy man.

                Unfortunately, reality came crashing back when the girls reached them, and Rory went straight to RJ and planted a kiss on his cheek.

                Drawing on his DuGrey upbringing, he forced his attention over to Lane.  "You must be Lane.  I'm Tristan."

                Holding out her hand, she replied, "It's nice to meet you, Tristan."

                He lifted the proffered hand to his lips, and grazed a kiss across her knuckles.  "The pleasure is mine."

                He watched her eye him appraisingly, in a way akin to what Louise used to do, but somehow less sinister.

                "So you're Tristan.  I've heard a lot about you."

                He smirked.  "Oh really?  I'm sure none of it was good."

                "Well, Rory certainly never mentioned how handsome you are."

                He smiled, and smoothly linked his arm through hers.  "Well, she never mentioned to me that she has a beautiful best friend.  What do you say we find out what else she hasn't been telling us?"

                Lane nodded, and the pair meandered towards the entrance of the hotel.

                Meanwhile, Rory and Ryan were getting reacquainted.

                "I'm so glad you're here," Ryan said softly.

                Rory smiled.  "So am I.  It all seems sort of like a fairy tale, don't you think?"

                "Well, that depends."

                "On what?"

                "On whether you want me to be your Prince Charming."

                "I'm here, aren't I?"

                "That you are."  He leaned down and brushed a light kiss across her lips.  Then he took her by the hand, and they began to follow the path Tristan and Lane had taken.

                The sight of her best friend looking so cozy with her former sworn enemy gave Rory pause.  Ryan immediately noticed her puzzled look.  "Hey, what's wrong?"

                "Nothing.  It's just a little…strange, seeing the two of them together."

                Now it was his turn to be confused.  "I thought this was what you wanted?"

                "It was!  I mean, it is.  I'm really happy that they're getting along.  It's just…they belonged to two parts of my life that I generally kept separate."

                "Then maybe it's time you brought them together."

                "You're probably right," Rory conceded.  Still, she couldn't quite shake the twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach…

*              *                *

                They went to dinner at the Rainbow Room.  Much to Rory's relief, the conversation between the four of them flowed easily.

                "…so then, the doctor comes in and informs the woman that her son is not, in fact, going deaf.  She, of course, is outraged that he would so easily dismiss her 'diagnosis,' and demands to know what _he_ thinks it is.  He calmly explains to her that the reason her three-year-old son can't hear out of his left ear is because there were several peas stuffed into his ear canal.  He then suggested that she 'spend more time keeping an eye on her son and less time pretending to be a doctor.'"

                By the time Lane finished yet another story about her medical school misadventures, the entire table was laughing.

                "So what made you decide to become a doctor?" asked Tristan.

                Lane grimaced.  "Well, my mother was always telling me how she hoped I would grow up to marry a nice Korean doctor.  I thought that maybe if I _became_ a nice Korean doctor, she'd get off my case about who I should marry."

                He chuckled.  "So has it worked?"

                "Of course not.  My mother is determined, to put it mildly.  Now that I'm on my own, though, there isn't much she can do."

                Tristan removed his napkin from his lap and placed it beside his plate.  Standing up and holding out his hand, he inquired, "In that case, would you like to dance?"

                Smiling, Lane clasped his hand and said, "Of course."

                As they walked away from the table and proceeded to twirl effortlessly around the dance floor, Rory turned to Ryan.  "Would you like to?"

                He reddened slightly, and shook his head.  "I'm really not much of a dancer.  I'm sorry, Lorelai."

                Disappointed, she simply murmured, "That's alright."

                Attempting to lighten the mood, Ryan commented, "I think they make a cute couple, don't you?"

                Rory looked over at the pair.  Tristan towered over the diminutive dark-haired girl, but she couldn't help noticing how at ease they seemed with one another.  Nonetheless, the strange sensation in her stomach persisted.  "Yeah.  Just adorable."

                Out on the dance floor, Tristan was regaling Lane with tales of the havoc he wreaked in high school and college.  When he paused to take a breath, she asked, "So how long have you been in love with Rory?"

                He nearly stopped dead in his tracks, recovering just enough to only stumble over his feet slightly.  "Excuse me?" he sputtered.

                "You can tell me the truth, Tristan.  I promise I won't spill your secret."

                "What makes you think there's a secret to spill?" he inquired in what he hoped was a casual tone.

                She rolled her eyes.  "Please.  You couldn't stop staring at her during dinner, and don't think I didn't catch the look on your face when you first saw her tonight.  And Tristan, you're obviously a very good dancer, but you've spun me around more times than a Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair.  Strangely enough, we always seem to stop spinning when you're facing our table and I'm staring directly at this ninety-year-old couple that has started giving me dirty looks."

                He at least had the grace to look sheepish.  "You caught that, huh?"

                She lifted her hand from her waist and poked him in the stomach.  "You're lucky I don't get motion sickness.  So, spit it out—how long?"

                He sighed.  "It started when we were sixteen.  Every time I would convince myself that I was over her, I'd see her again, and I'd fall for her one more time."

                "I take it you haven't broken that cycle yet."

                He snorted.  "What, you think it's a coincidence that I managed to avoid her for nine years?"

                "That's the part I don't understand.  You're an intelligent, attractive, charming man.  Some might even say cocky.  Why not just ask her out?"

                "Trust me, she would have said no.  She _did_ say no.  I guess I just finally learned my lesson."

                "If you had really learned your lesson, you wouldn't be staring at her over the shoulder of the gorgeous young Asian doctor you happen to be dancing with," she commented dryly.

                Tristan blushed.  "I'm sorry, Lane.  Maybe we should go sit down for a while."

                "Okay.  Just try to refrain from drooling all over that lovely Hermés tie you're wearing."

                "I'll do my best."

                The song that Lane and Tristan had been dancing to ended as they sat back down, and then the soft strains of "Tenderly" began to fill the room.

                "Rory, it's your song!" Lane said excitedly.  "You should go dance."

                Rory glanced quickly over at Ryan, then shook her head.  "No, that's okay."

                "Oh, not much of a dancer?" Lane asked sympathetically of Ryan.  Not waiting for an answer, she rushed on.  "Tristan, you should dance with her!"

                He shot her a look that would have killed a lesser woman.  How could she do this?  It was on the tip of his tongue to decline, but then he noticed the way Rory's eyes had brightened, the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  Obviously, the song meant something to her.

                Rising from his chair, he reached for her.  "It would be my honor."

                Within seconds, they were on the dance floor.  He nearly groaned at how perfectly they fit together.  Her tiny hand was engulfed in his, the creamy skin like silk.  In her three-inch heels, the difference in their heights became negligible, and he found himself gazing directly into her sparkling eyes.  He inhaled the delicate floral of her perfume, and felt contentment thrum through his veins.  Unlike Lane, with whom he had maintained a steady stream of conversation throughout their dance, Rory was completely entranced by the song.  He let himself drift deeper into the blue pools of her eyes, and just listened…

_The evening breeze_

_Caressed the trees tenderly_

_The trembling trees_

_Embraced the breeze tenderly_

_Then you and I came wandering by_

_And lost in a sigh were we_

_The shore was kissed by sea_

_And mist tenderly_

_I can't forget how two hearts_

_Met breathlessly_

_Your arms opened wide_

_And closed me inside_

_You took my lips_

_You took my love so tenderly_

_To be continued…_

"Tenderly" written by Walter Gross and Jack Lawrence.  Lyrics used without permission.  No copyright infringement intended.


	7. Who needs affection when I've got blind ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed.  I would like to make it clear, however, that Ryan will not be going away any time in the near future.  He is an integral part of the plot.  Also, this story is going to be very, very long.  I think.

Oh, and this chapter's quote is from _10 Things I Hate About You._

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Seven:  Who needs affection when I've got blind hatred?

                As the final notes of the song died away, Tristan didn't release his hold on Rory.  Instead, they began to move gently to the sound of "La Vie en Rose."

                "What's so special about that song?" he inquired softly.

                "It just brings back good memories," she replied, declining to elaborate any further.

                "You know, the song is over," he commented, even as he spun her out and back to him again.

                "I know."  She simply slipped her hand back into his and continued dancing.  "You and Lane seemed to be getting along pretty well earlier."

                He slipped into his old familiar smirk.  "Jealous, Mary?"

                Rory rolled her eyes.  "You really haven't changed, have you?"

                "Sure I have.  If I hadn't, I probably would have made lewd remarks all throughout dinner."

                "Your restraint is downright admirable," she said sarcastically.  "It must be tough acting like an adult when you're used to bimbos with the IQs of twelve-year-olds."

                His eyes hardened, and he twisted her into another spin, quite a bit more violently than before.  "You know, you're being awfully judgmental, considering you haven't had more than a ten-minute conversation with me since we were sixteen years old."

                "Said lack of conversation means that I have no proof that you're any different than you were back then," she shot back.

                "What, no faith in the rehabilitation powers of military school?"

                "For you?  It's doubtful."

                "Do you always hold grudges this long?"

                "Who says I'm holding a grudge?"

                "Contrary to what you may think, Rory, I'm not stupid.  I know I hurt you all those years ago, and I'm sorry.  If I could go back and do things differently, I would."

                She gazed steadily at him, her blue eyes darkened with confusion.  "What I've never understood, Tristan, is why you did all those things to me."

                He shrugged carefully, not wanting to disrupt the flow of their dance.  "Because I could, I suppose. Because you were different, and I didn't understand you.  Because you were a challenge."

                "Those aren't very good reasons."

                "I was a teenage boy.  What exactly did you expect, some deep psychological explanation?"

                "No, but I expected more than 'because I could.'"

                "You want more?  Fine.  I did it because you fascinated me.  I had never met anyone like you.  I wanted to figure you out, and I could only do that by getting to know you."

                "And you thought tormenting me was the way to accomplish that?"

                "I reiterate—I was a teenage boy.  I _was stupid back then."_

                "Fair enough, I guess.  So tell me something, Tristan DuGrey, who are you now?"

                He grinned.  "I guess you'll just have to get to know me to find out."

                "Do you always get your way?"

                "All except twice."

                "Oh, really?  And when was that?"

                "Once was when I was shipped off to North Carolina.  The other, well, let's just say I'm still working on that one."

                "What a frightening thought."

                "You have no idea, Gilmore.  You have no idea."

                The song ended, and he slowly stopped moving.  "We should probably get back to our dates.  We've danced to three songs now."

                Rory looked completely stunned by that proclamation.  "Have we really?  Wow.  You're a very good dancer, Tristan."

                "Thanks, you too.  I guess we just make a good pair."

                She laughed softly.  "Who ever would have guessed it?"

                When they got back to the table, Tristan could tell that RJ was upset but trying desperately to hide it.  This was confirmed when the other man said, "One more song and I was going to start thinking you were trying to make a move on my girl."  RJ's half-hearted attempt at humor came out as a thinly-veiled threat.

                Tristan nearly gagged at the phrase "my girl."  "Well, I wouldn't want you thinking that, now would I?" he replied mockingly.

                Sensing conflict, Lane broke into the conversation.  "Tristan, why don't you tell me more about what you guys do?"

                Catching on to what she was trying to accomplish, Tristan immediately launched into a litany filled with HTML, ISPs, Java, and quite a bit of other technical jargon that Rory and Lane didn't really understand.  Still, it was a safe, neutral topic of conversation, so they nodded and "oohed" and "aahed" in what seemed to be the right places.

                Ryan, Tristan, and Lane were on their second cups of coffee, while Rory was nursing her fourth, when Tristan finally finished his oral dissertation on ILRG, Inc.  Lane blinked away the glaze from her eyes and said, "Well, I didn't follow most of what you just told us, but it sounded really interesting."

                "Thanks…I think," Tristan chuckled.

                The face of innocence, Lane turned to Rory and asked, "Hey, wouldn't Ryan and Tristan be perfect to design that online edition of the magazine that Paris has been pushing for?  Since you're all friends, maybe they could even cut you a deal!"

                Rory stared at the woman she had long considered her best friend, her eyes widening with panic.  She had _told Lane about her concerns that Paris would suggest just such a collaboration.  Although spending this evening with Tristan hadn't been a completely heinous experience, she just didn't know if she could handle him for anything approaching a daily basis.  On the other hand, Ryan was really sweet, and she could see herself starting a long-term relationship with him._

                Regardless, she was going to kill Lane.

                Before she had the chance to recover from her shock, Ryan burst out with, "What a great idea!  Lorelai, why don't you talk to Paris when you get back, and the four of us can teleconference on Monday?"

                "Oh, I don't know if that's such a good idea…" Rory demurred.

                "Oh, come on, Ror, it will be just like old times!  If we finish the project ahead of schedule, maybe we can even work in a performance of _Romeo and Juliet, Act V," Tristan teased._

                "I hate you," she murmured through clenched teeth.

                He froze at her words.  "I guess some things really _haven't changed," he managed to get out._

                For a split second, Rory saw anguish flash across his face, but then it was gone.  "Tristan…"

                "Save it, Mary," he spat out.  Turning to Lane, he adopted a more cordial tone.  "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Lane.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm suddenly not feeling very well."  Rising from the table, he quickly strode out of the restaurant.

                "What the hell was that all about?" Ryan asked, confused.

                Ignoring him, Lane said anxiously, "Rory, I think you should go after him."

                The other woman hesitated.  "I don't know…"

                "Rory.  Now."  Lane's voice was sharp.

                Nodding with a newfound determination, Rory left the table.  When she got outside, she was just in time to see Tristan get into a taxi.

*              *                *

                Sunshine poured into the luxurious hotel room, forcing Rory into wakefulness.  Blinking several times, she glanced over at the bedside clock as memories of the previous evening came rushing back.

                After Tristan's abrupt departure, the atmosphere had become awkward and uncomfortable.  To Ryan's frustration, Rory had become withdrawn, and her good-night kiss was perfunctory.  Back at the hotel, Rory and Lane had fought over what Rory perceived as an ambush with regard to the online magazine.  Both girls went to bed still feeling upset, and it was a long time before either of them achieved sleep.

                Twisting her head, Rory saw that Lane's eyes were already open.

                "Morning," Rory said softly.

                "Morning.  Look, Rory, about last night…"

                Rory sat up in bed.  "Lane, wait.  Let me go first.  I'm sorry about last night, about what I said to you.  What happened with Tristan wasn't your fault, and I was out of line to suggest that it was."

                Lane also sat up.  "I'm sorry too.  I don't know what prompted me to bring up the magazine to Ryan and Tristan."

                Rory sighed.  "Don't worry about it.  I doubt Tristan would agree to do business with me anyway."

                "I just don't understand what went wrong.  You and Tristan seemed to be getting along so well while you were dancing."

                Rory flopped back against her pillows.  "He said something to me, and I…reacted."

                "What did he say?"

                "He reminded me of a difficult memory from a long time ago, and I inadvertently reminded him of a different one in return."

                "Don't you think you should try to talk to him, work things out?"

                Rory laughed sharply.  "I really don't think he wants to talk to me."

                "You'll never know unless you try," Lane pointed out.

                "Why is this so important to you, Lane?"

                "It's not!  It's just…I don't like seeing you upset."

                Rory looked skeptical, but didn't press the issue.  "I suppose it's worth a shot.  I'll give Tristan a call later."

                "I think you should go see him.  It's too easy to hang up a phone."

                "Because it's so much harder to slam a door in my face?"

                "Rory…"

                She tried a different tack.  "I thought we were supposed to go shopping today.  I don't want to abandon you."

                "Rory!"

                "Fine, I'll go see him!  Is it alright if I shower and change first?"

                "I suppose," Lane replied, grinning.

                "Geez, I never knew you were such a tyrant."

                "It comes from all those years of living with my mother."

                "And here all I got was a rampant coffee addiction and a strange affinity for _The Dukes of Hazzard…"_

*              *                *

                Two hours later, Rory stood in front of the door that reliable sources told her belonged to Tristan's apartment.  Acquiring the address had been quite an adventure.  It had taken four phone calls to the hotel concierge, who reminded her eerily of Michel, before anyone would agree to help her.

                The fact that his apartment was within walking distance of the Plaza told her that Tristan was still living the high life.  She had to sweet-talk her way past the doorman before being allowed entrance to the building.

                Standing outside his door, she was actually mildly surprised that he hadn't gone all-out and sprung for a penthouse.

                Taking a deep breath, she knocked tentatively.  Nearly a minute passed without any response, and Rory was about to walk away when she heard someone fumbling with the locks.

                The door swung open slowly to reveal a disheveled-looking Tristan.  His hair was standing up in fifty different directions.  His eyes were bleary and ringed with red, and he was clad only in boxers and a tank top.

                "Go away, Rory," he said dully, and started to shut the door.

                She reached out and stopped the door before he could close it all the way.  "Tristan, please wait."

                "What do you want?"

                "We need to talk."

                "I think you said plenty last night.  There's really nothing more that I want to hear from you."

                He began to push harder on the door, but Rory wasn't about to let him close her out.  Moving quickly, she slipped between the door and the frame, and found herself inside Tristan's spacious apartment.  The first thing she noticed was that the place was a disaster.  Taking a step towards him, she was assaulted by the stench of alcohol.

                "Tristan, are you drunk?"

                He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier.  "Technically, I'm hung over.  There's a difference."

                "What happened here?"

                He glanced around, taking in the couch cushions strewn around the room, the books knocked off the shelves and lying on the floor, the shards of glass from a decanter littering the carpet near one wall.  "I gave the maid the week off," he said sarcastically.

                "Of course you did.  Tristan, I didn't come here to discuss your housekeeping skills, or lack thereof."

                "Then why are you here?"

                She didn't answer right away, just walked across the room, picked up a couch cushion, neatly returned it to its rightful place, and sat down upon it.  "I'm here because I didn't like what happened between us last night."

                "Which part?  The part where we shared three dances, or the part where you told me for the second time that you hated me?"

                She stared up at him, blue eyes wide with astonishment.  "How can you even doubt which one I'm talking about?"

                "It's simple logic, Mary.  If the second is true, is it such a stretch to think that the first might also be true?"

                It was Rory's turn to run a hand through her hair.  "Tristan, you provoked me.  I was angry.  I didn't mean that I _really hated you."_

                "Right, just like you didn't really mean it when you told Dean the same thing at the end of sophomore year?"

                She winced at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.  "I can't believe you even remember that, that you even cared what I said.  Maybe I did hate you back then, I don't know.  I don't think I really even knew you back then."

                "And how about now?"

                She looked around the room. "Well, this apartment certainly won't give me any clues to your inner psyche."

                He grimaced.  "I know.  I guess I'm just not very good at 'nesting.'"

                "Tristan, I am truly sorry for what I said.  I didn't know you then, and I don't know you now.  Please, I'd like the chance to change that, if you'll let me."

                He finally allowed himself a small smile.  "What exactly did you have in mind?"

                "I'm meeting Lane back at the hotel in forty minutes, and then we're going to do lunch and go shopping.  Care to join us?"

                He thought about it for a moment.  "Spending the day with two beautiful women?  Count me in."

_To be continued…_


	8. No one's called me a butthead since abou...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

A/N: The New York locations mentioned in this chapter are all real.  I have no idea, however, how difficult it is to get a table at Rock Center Café, as I have never been there.  Please excuse any inaccuracies in that respect, and just pretend that since it's eight years in the future, things could have changed.  Oh, and a caduceus is a symbol of the medical profession.

This chapter's quote is from _Legally Blonde._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Eight:  No one's called me a butthead since about the 9th grade.  Maybe not to your face…

                By the time Tristan was showered, dressed, and ready to go, it was nearly time to meet Lane back at the Plaza.  Grabbing him by the hand, Rory impatiently dragged him out of the apartment, barely pausing long enough to let him lock the door.

                Glancing down at their joined hands, he couldn't resist teasing her.  "Man, you just can't keep your hands off me, can you Mary?"

                Releasing him as suddenly as if he had burned her, Rory tried to scowl, but ended up giggling instead.  "You," she said, wagging a finger at him, "are impossible."

                "I know.  Isn't it endearing?"

                "Somehow that's not quite the word I had in mind…"

                "Tsk, tsk, Gilmore.  Hasn't your sharp tongue gotten you in enough trouble for one weekend?"

                She instantly sobered.  "We're okay, right?  I mean, about last night?"

                He reached out and re-clasped her hand in his.  "We're fine," he said quietly.  "I promise."

                She smiled shyly, then broke into a full grin when the elevator reached the lobby.  Darting out, she called back over her shoulder, "Last one to the Plaza is a rotten egg!"

                Hustling after her, he yelled back, "How old are you?  Twelve?"

                She just laughed and picked up her pace.

                Their impromptu race, however, was abruptly halted by the flood of pedestrians they encountered upon reaching the sidewalk.  Not wanting to lose her in the crowd, Tristan hurried to catch up.  "Would you settle for a tie?" he asked.

                "Afraid you'd lose, DuGrey?"

                "Hardly," he scoffed.  "But if telling yourself that helps you sleep at night, you go right ahead."

                "See, now, I try not to think about things that would give me nightmares right before I go to sleep."

                "Ouch.  What would you say if I told you that thinking about you gives me my most pleasant dreams?" he inquired suggestively.

                She blushed, but her tone remained confident.  "I'd say you must think I'm pretty naïve if you expect me to buy that line."

                "Are you trying to tell me you're no longer a Mary?  Have you crossed over to the land of the Magdalenes?"

                Her blush deepened.  "That is _none of your business."_

                "Of course not.  My mistake," he murmured.  He took her by the hand once more, and was relieved that she didn't pull away.  He told himself it was just so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd, but even he didn't believe himself.

*              *              *

                Lane was glancing at her watch impatiently when Rory and Tristan finally arrived at the hotel.  Catching sight of them, she hurried over.

                "Hey!  I was beginning to think I was being stood up!"

                "Tristan DuGrey, disappoint a lady?  Never!" he exclaimed with a flourish.

                Rory snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough.

                Facing her with an expression of mock horror, Tristan adopted a Southern drawl and asked, "Lorelai Gilmore, did you just _snort?"_

                Playing along, Rory replied, "Good heavens, no.  What-_evah would make you __say such a thing?"  Her lilting Southern Belle impersonation drew curious glances from the other hotel patrons, and the trio collapsed into laughter._

                Tristan regained his composure first.  "So what's up first on today's agenda?"

                Rory turned to Lane.  "You wanted to see Rockefeller Center, right?"

                "Ooh, yeah!  Can we go ice-skating?"

                Tristan and Rory gaped at her.  Finally he said gently, "Lane, it's the middle of August.  It's probably 95 degrees out.  I don't think they'll have ice today.  It's really only a winter thing."

                "Oh.  I thought it was year-round."

                He slung an arm around her shoulders.  "Don't worry about it.  We may not be able to skate there, but we can certainly eat lunch there."

                Rory looked doubtful.  "Isn't it practically impossible to get a table there?"

                Tristan draped his other arm around her.  "Leave that to me."

                Side by side, they strode out of the hotel, breaking into an impromptu Monkee-walk along the way.  Thirty minutes later, they were seated at a prime table, where the other tourists waiting in the sweltering heat proceeded to glare at them.

                Lane gaped at their surroundings in wide-eyed wonder.  "How did you get us in here so fast?  You know what; I don't even want to know.  This is incredible."

                He smiled.  "I'm glad you like it.  Now, what else is on the to-do list for the day?"

                Excitedly, Lane reached into her purse and pulled out a list.  "Well, I want to go to FAO Schwarz, Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Tiffany's…"

                Rory and Tristan grinned at each other as Lane prattled on.  When she paused for breath, he asked with a chuckle, "Lane, have you ever _been to New York before?"_

                "Sure!  But, well, the first time was a school field trip, so all I got to see was a museum, and then I came with my mother, so it was Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, and then home again."

                "You have to understand—Lane's mom is _really strict," Rory interjected._

                "That's the understatement of the century," mumbled Lane.

                "Well, then, today the city is yours," Tristan said.  "Anything you want to do, we'll do.  All you have to do is ask."

                Lane shot a glance at Rory.  "Tell me one more time why you weren't friends with this guy in high school?"

                "Lane…"

                "I think I can answer that one," Tristan said with a devious smirk.  "Poor little Mary knew that if she spent any amount of time in my presence, she would inevitably succumb to my charms."

                Rory bristled, and flashed a saccharine smile.  "No, I just knew that being prosecuted for murder would put a major crimp in my plans to go to Harvard."

                "Oh, admit it—you found me irresistible, and it terrified you."

                "The only thing that terrified me was your ego."

                Lane couldn't help noticing that with every barb they exchanged, Rory and Tristan leaned closer and closer to one another.  The sparks between them were practically visible in the air.  As she was trying to figure out how to remove herself from the table without them noticing, Rory's cell phone rang, and the atmosphere was shattered.

                "Hello?"

                "Oh, hi Ryan."

                Lane saw Tristan try to hide his wince.

                "Just having lunch with Lane and Tristan."

                "Rock Center Café."

                "Tristan got us in."

                "I don't know; it just happened.  We're just catching up on old times."

                "No, of course not, Ryan.  You're more than welcome to join us."

                Again, Tristan cringed.

                "Just shopping and stuff."

                "Are you sure?"

                "Okay.  Tell you what, why don't we do something tonight, just the two of us?"

                "That sounds great.  I'll call you when I get back to the hotel."

                Hanging up, Rory returned her attention to her lunch companions.

                "Problems?" Lane asked lightly.

                "No, not really.  You know how insecure men can be sometimes."

                Waving a hand in her face, Tristan said, "Hi, still here."

                Rory grinned wickedly.  "I know.  That's why I said it."

                "Ow!  You know, I don't think anyone's ever called me insecure before."

                "Maybe not to your face," Rory replied, taking a bite of her salad.

                They spent the rest of the meal engaged in genial, lighthearted conversation.  When they finished, Tristan insisted on picking up the tab.  Leaving the restaurant, they wandered around Rockefeller Center for a little while, and then headed across the street to St. Patrick's Cathedral.  Although neither Rory nor Lane was Catholic, both were interested in seeing the beautiful old church.

                When they walked in through the imposing, massive double doors, Rory noticed that Tristan dipped his finger in the holy water and quickly made the sign of the Cross.

                "You're Catholic?" she asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

                He nodded.  "My grandfather insisted that my parents have me baptized when I was a baby.  He was the one who always took me to Mass."

                "I just never really pictured you as a churchgoer."

                He shrugged.  "I'm just full of surprises."  He reached into the neck of his t-shirt and pulled out a gold crucifix dangling from a slender chain.  "This was my grandfather's.  He died a few years ago, and I've worn it every day since."

                "Were you and your grandfather close?"

                "Yeah.  He was more like a father to me than a grandfather.  My own father just couldn't be bothered."

                Cautiously, Rory reached out and took his hand, something that was becoming a habit that day.  "I'm sorry.  My father and I weren't very close while I was growing up either, but things are better now."

                He gave her a sad half-smile.  "I don't think my relationship with my father is ever going to change."

                She gave his hand one more squeeze, and then released it.  "You never know."

                Before Tristan could respond, Lane came up to them.  "Okay, enough of this holy stuff.  Let's go shopping!"

                Rory and Tristan smiled indulgently, and dutifully followed her back out onto 5th Avenue.  Once they hit the sidewalk, she exclaimed, "First stop, Cartier!"  For the next four hours, they browsed through Cartier, Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Elizabeth Arden, Godiva, Christian Dior, Henri Bendel, Fendi, the Trump Tower, Bulgari, and finally ended up at Tiffany's.

                Lane and Rory both let out sighs of contentment when they walked through the doors of the famed jewelry store.

                "There's something magical about this place," breathed Lane.

                "It makes me feel like Audrey Hepburn," replied Rory, her voice reverent.

                As the girls gravitated towards the display cases, Tristan hung back and smiled with amusement.  He had never understood the appeal of a bunch of sparkly rocks.  Okay, they were pretty, but it's not like they _did anything.  Now a nice Ferrari or Porsche—__those he understood._

                He watched as Lane made a beeline for the selection of engagement rings, undoubtedly wanting to ogle the ostentatious diamonds.  Rory, however, remained near the other gemstones.

                He ambled over to her slowly.  "Why aren't you over by Lane?  I thought all women your age wanted to stare at engagement rings."

                "I've never really cared for diamonds.  I don't think I even want one if I get married.  I'd rather have an opal."

                He looked at her in surprise.  "Aren't those supposed to be bad luck?"

                She glanced up from the rings she had been studying, and flashed him a dazzling smile.  "Yes, but apparently that rule doesn't apply to people who have the opal as their birthstone."

                "And who might those people be?"

                "Why, the most remarkable people of all—people born in October!"

                He chuckled.  "Of course.  Silly me.  And if I recall correctly, _you were born in October."_

                "You remember that?"

                "Sure.  After all, I'm still waiting for that birthday kiss."

                She groaned.  "I should have guessed."

                As she went back to perusing the jewelry, her phone rang, and Tristan wandered off.  Coming up to Lane, he inquired, "Find anything?"

                She let out a melancholy sigh.  "Oh, sure.  Lots of things that I can never, ever have."

                "I know that feeling."

                She looked at him carefully, compassion in her eyes.  "It really bothered you when Ryan called Rory earlier, didn't it?"

                He nodded.  "I guess I just wanted a few hours where I could forget that she's dating someone else."

                "Unfortunately, forgetting doesn't make it any less true."

                "Gee, that's encouraging," he said sarcastically.  "Maybe you should look into a career as a motivational speaker."

                "Tristan…"

                "Forget it.  My inner jerk got the best of me there.  I'm sorry."  Seeing Rory approach, he quickly excused himself.  "I'll be right back.  There's something I want to look at."

                "Hey Lane.  What are you looking at?"

                Lane smiled at her best friend.  "My dream engagement ring.  Dream being the operative word.  What's up?"

                "Ryan just called again.  Apparently, he got tickets to _The Phantom of the Opera, so I need to get back to the hotel pretty soon.  You don't mind, do you?"_

                "Of course not.  I'm sure I can convince Tristan to baby-sit me, if you're really worried."

                "Lane, you know that's not what I meant."

                "Yes, I do.  I was just teasing.  Seriously, I think it's great how close you and Ryan are getting.  Besides, it's _Broadway."_

                "Thanks hon.  I promise, tomorrow it will be just you and me."

                "Whatever.  Anyway, today was great.  I'm really glad Tristan came with us."

                "Did I hear my name?"

                "Oh, hi Tristan.  I was just telling Lane that I need to get going."

                "So soon?"

                "Yeah, Ryan and I are going to the theatre."

                He forced a smile.  "You give RJ my best, and have a great time."

                As they spoke, they had exited the store, and now stood back on 5th Avenue.

                "I don't think I'll have the chance to see you again before we leave, so I guess this is good-bye."

                "Before you go, I have a little something for you and Lane."  He swiftly pulled out two small trademark-Tiffany-blue boxes, and handed them to the girls.

                "Tristan, you didn't have to get us anything!" Rory protested.

                "I wanted to.  Now go ahead, open them."

                Rory and Lane looked at each other.  "You go first," said Rory.

                Lane eagerly opened the little box, and took out a beautiful sterling-silver keychain in the shape of a caduceus.  "It's perfect!" she squealed.  She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.  "I love it.  Thank you."

                "You're welcome."

                It was Rory's turn.  Her box contained a keychain as well, but this one had a sterling-silver pen attached to it.

                As she gazed at it in silence, Tristan looked down and said nervously, "I thought, since you're a writer and all…"

                "It's beautiful, Tristan.  Thank you so much."  Going up on tiptoe, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

                He gently pulled her into a hug, and whispered, "Keep in touch, Mary."

                "I will," she replied.  "I promise."

                She took her leave shortly thereafter, and Lane focused on Tristan.  "Think you can put up with me a few hours longer?"

                "Of course!  What's next?"

                She blushed.  "FAO Schwarz."

                "That's one of my favorites."

                "Really?  You don't think it's silly?"

                "Not at all!  I'll even dance on the piano with you."

                "Cool."

                With that, they scampered off in the direction of the toy store.

_To be continued…_


	9. There's no crying in baseball!

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

A/N: This gotten written so quickly because it was more fun than doing my taxes.  Contains a P/J sex scene, which I hope doesn't completely suck.  And I know you're all begging for Trory action, but please trust me.  It will be a while, but it will happen!

This chapter's quote is from _A League of Their Own._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Nine: There's no crying in baseball!

                "Tristan, today has been so much fun.  I'm so glad I had the chance to really get to know you."

                "So am I, Lane."  He raised his wine glass in a toast.  "Here's to new friendships."

                She clinked their glasses in response.  "Hear, hear."

                "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

                Lane grinned, and swept her eyes around the elegant dining room.  "It was amazing.  I can't believe I'm actually in the Crystal Room of the Tavern on the Green!  Thank you so much for getting us in here."

                "I told you—all you ever have to do is ask."

                She smiled slyly.  "Does that mean you'll take me somewhere else for dessert?"

                "Of course!  Pick your poison."

                "Serendipity 3."

                He laughed softly.  "No problem.  You don't even need my special connections to get in there."

                "I know.  I just thought it would be nice to treat you to some frozen hot chocolate."

                "Dr. Kim, you are my kind of woman."

                "Now, we both know that's not true.  Tell me, what are you going to do about this situation with Rory?"

                He drained his glass of wine before replying.  "What can I do?  Maybe it would be a different story if she was dating someone else, and I could pursue her without too many pangs to my conscience.  I can't do that to RJ."

                "You seemed pretty upset last night."

                Tristan laughed sharply.  "That's putting it mildly.  I went home, finished off a bottle of Jack Daniels, and destroyed my living room."

                Her dark eyes brimmed with sympathy.  "Oh, Tristan, you didn't…  I'm so sorry."

                "It's not your fault, Lane."

                "Yes it was!  At least partly.  If I hadn't opened my big fat mouth and made that comment about you and RJ working with Rory and Paris…"

                He reached across the table and pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.  "Lane, please don't blame yourself.  Any bad blood that Rory and I have between us is entirely my fault.  You were just trying to be a friend."

                "You know, if it weren't for the fact that you're head-over-heels in love with my best friend, I could fall for you, Tristan DuGrey."

                "Well, if it weren't for the fact that I'm head-over-heels in love with your best friend, I could fall for you, too, Lane Kim."

                "That's sweet of you to say.  Now come on—I need my chocolate fix!"

*              *              *

                Rory was starry-eyed as she and Ryan walked out of the theatre.  "That was unbelievable!" she gushed.  "I really think I could see that show every single day and never, ever get tired of it."

                "Then it's a good thing you bought the cast recording," he teased.

                She colored slightly.  "I know.  I'm such a tourist, aren't I?  You should have seen me and Lane today, gawking at all the fancy stores.  I'm actually surprised that Tristan didn't die of embarrassment!"

                Ryan didn't seem to find amusement in her story.  "You know, you never really explained how Tristan ended up going shopping with you guys."

                "It was a spur of the moment thing, really.  I went over there to apologize for what happened last night, and I ended up inviting him."

                "You went to his apartment?" Ryan asked, his eyebrows raised.  "I didn't realize you knew where he lived."

                "I didn't, actually.  It was quite a feat finding his address, let me tell you!"

                "You could have just called me and asked for it."

                "Huh.  I never even thought of that.  Wow, I feel really stupid now."

                Ryan paused in the middle of the sidewalk they had been walking down, and gently tugged Rory off to the side, out of the main flow of pedestrian traffic.  "Lorelai, I'm trying really hard not to act like a jealous, insecure boyfriend, because that's the last thing I want to be.  Still, I can't help wondering about the nature of your relationship with Tristan.  I mean, he's seen you more than I have this weekend."

                Rory reached up and rested her hand against his cheek.  "I promise you, Ryan, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.  I just want to get along with Tristan, that's all.  Won't it make your life easier if your girlfriend and your business partner can be friends?"

                He visibly relaxed.  "You're right.  I'm sorry."

                "Apology accepted."  She moved her hand around from the side of his face to the back of his neck, and pulled him downward into a kiss.  His lips were warm and soft, and the sultry night air seemed to envelop them in their own private cocoon.  Rory offered no resistance when he moved to deepen the kiss, allowing him access to the warm recesses of her mouth.  As their tongues mated and dueled, she felt hot threads of passion begin to flow within her, and she seemed to melt in his embrace.

                When they finally came up for air, Rory's lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed.  He couldn't help smiling at how incredibly gorgeous she looked.  "We'll have to continue that later," he murmured, his voice husky.

                "Definitely," she agreed.  "Right now, though, I'm really hungry."

                "Good.  I know just the place.  It's nothing fancy, but I think you'll really like it."

*              *              *

                Serendipity 3 was crowded, but Lane and Tristan had managed to get a table without too long of a wait.

                As she went to take another heavenly taste of frozen hot chocolate, Lane commented, "I've wanted to come here ever since I saw that movie."

                He grinned.  "You and ten million other people.  Are you a big John Cusack fan?"

                "Are you kidding me?  Not only did he star in _High Fidelity, quite possibly the greatest movie ever made about obsessive music freaks, __and played the iconic sensitive teen male Lloyd Dobler in __Say Anything, he also played a character named Lane in one of my favorite 80s teen comedies, __Better Off Dead!"_

                "I'll take that as a yes.  Personally, though, I think one of his best roles was as Buck Weaver in _Eight Men Out."_

                "Are you a baseball fan?"

                "Sure.  It _is the national pastime, after all."_

                "Here I always assumed it was watching television," Lane joked.  "So who do you root for—Yankees, Mets, Red Sox?"

                Tristan leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice to a whisper.  "Actually, I'm a Cubs fan."

                Lane stared at him incredulously.  "Is that even _allowed if you live in this city?"_

                He chuckled.  "Not really, no.  There's just something about rooting for the underdog, you know?"

                "Well, the Cubs certainly qualify in that department, I'll give you that much.  How long has it been since they won the World Series?"

                "A hundred and two years.  But I really think this could be their year!"

                "Right…  So how did you become a Cubs fan in the first place?"

                "When I was about six, my grandfather took me with him on a business trip to Chicago.  He only had meetings the first day, but we spent a week in the city.  We did everything—saw all the museums, went sailing on Lake Michigan, went up to the top of the Sears Tower, ate ourselves sick at the Taste of Chicago…you name it, we did it.  The day before we came home, he took me to a Cubs game.  We got bleacher tickets, because he said that was the only proper way to see a Cubs game.  It was so incredible, Lane.  The grass was so green, it almost didn't seem real, and the ivy growing on the outfield walls was beautiful.  They have this giant old manual scoreboard that shows scores from around the league.  There's actually a guy inside it, changing the numbers!  I got to see Greg Maddux pitch, before he went to Atlanta and won all those Cy Young awards.  Ryne Sandberg, Mark Grace, and Andre Dawson were all still playing.  It was just a perfect day, and I fell in love with the whole experience.  I don't think you've truly seen a baseball game until you've seen one at Wrigley Field.  There's so much tradition and history there, it's almost like stepping back into an entirely different era."

                "Wow," Lane said in an awed tone.  "I don't even _like baseball and I want to go see a game there.  That's a wonderful story.  Your grandfather sounds like a really great guy."_

                "He was.  As the years have gone be, I've been trying really hard to be more like him."

                "I'm sure he's very proud of you."

                "I hope so."

                They settled into a contemplative silence for a few minutes, and then Tristan asked, "Has Serendipity 3 lived up to your expectations?"

                "Definitely.  About the only thing that could make it better would be for John Cusack to walk through the door."

                "I think he's more a Chicago guy, actually.  The movie was cute, though, even if it was completely far-fetched."

                "You mean you don't believe in fate?"

                "Hardly," Tristan scoffed.  "The outcome of our lives is dependent on our actions and decisions, not some gigantic mystic destiny."

                "Well, what about the idea that two people are meant to be together?"

                "As much as I would _like to believe that, I just can't.  I mean, you can't make yourself love someone just because it's supposedly predetermined by karma.  You either love someone or you don't."_

                "But what about you and Rory?" Lane persisted.  "Don't you think it's the slightest bit unusual that you've met up again after all this time?  And isn't it just a little strange that she starts dating your business partner, of all people, thereby throwing you together even more?"

                "If anything, I'd say that's cosmic evidence that we're _not supposed to be together.  So unless I get some glaringly obvious, neon-flashing, Vegas-sized sign that screams 'This is more than just a coincidence!' I am __not going to start believing.  I don't need any more false hope."_

                "Suit yourself.  But if you get struck by lightning on your way home tonight, don't say I didn't warn you."

                "Fair enough."

*              *              *

                Back in Hartford, Paris and Jess were just getting home after a romantic evening out.  As Jess tried to unlock the door, Paris began to nibble on his neck, causing him to fumble the keys.

                "Paris," he growled, "either you're going to have to stop that for a minute, or I'm going to end up ravishing you right here in the hallway."

                "And would that really be such a bad thing?" she asked throatily, giving his warm skin one last nip.

                He let out a groan of arousal.  "As much as I would love to encourage your inner exhibitionist tendencies, I really don't think the neighbors would appreciate it."

                "Then I suggest you get that door open _now, so that we can have our own private exhibition."_

                At long last, he managed to engage the key in the lock, and pushed the door open.  In their haste, he and Paris practically fell into the apartment.  Catching his wife in his arms, Jess used their bodies to shut the door, and proceeded to kiss her thoroughly.  When he began to move lower, trailing hot, wet kisses down the v-neck of her blouse, venturing ever closer to the tantalizing mounds of flesh below it, she moaned, "Dance with me, Jess."

                Never letting go of her, he guided them into the living room, his lips scorching patterns against her overheated flesh the entire time.  As they moved past the stereo, he flicked it on, and Peter Gabriel's voice filled the room.

                He moved his sensual ministrations back up to her mouth as they danced.  He felt electricity spark between them as Paris began to unbutton his dress shirt, her small hands smoothing over the hard, muscular planes of his chest and abdomen.  He released her briefly when she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor, and his breath caught in his throat when she dipped her head and grazed his nipple with her small, sharp teeth.  At this rate, they were _not going to make it into the bedroom._

                When she finally lifted her head, Jess moved to return the favor, swiftly tugging her shirt up and over her head.  Despite her full figure, Paris had opted not to wear a bra that evening, a fact which had caused him an almost painful erection throughout the majority of dinner.  Pulling one aroused peak into his mouth, he fondled the other nipple with his hand as Paris began to moan and arch her head back.

                He felt her begin to fumble with his belt buckle, and when his pants fell away, he followed them down to his knees.  Reaching behind her, Jess slowly lowered the zipper of her skirt.  He planted kisses down her thighs and along the edges of her already damp satin underwear.  With a sharp cry, she pulled him upward and over towards the couch.  They tumbled onto the soft cushions, kissing frantically, arms and legs tangled together as they moved to become one.

                A while later, they lay there together, warm and sated and happy.  Paris had spooned up against Jess, her back to his front, and she shifted his hand to settle against her flat stomach.  As he began to rub lazy circles there, occasionally dipping lower to encourage her renewed arousal, she sighed and then whispered, "Jess, I'm pregnant."

*              *              *

                "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Tristan asked Lane.

                "Australia, definitely."

                "Any particular reason?"

                "Not really.  I mean, I've been to Korea, and Europe just doesn't seem as appealing.  Besides, it's supposed to be really beautiful.  What about you?"

                "This is going to sound kind of strange, but I would love to go to Venezuela.  Mostly, I just want to see Angel Falls, which is the tallest waterfall in the world.  Can you imagine taking a helicopter up there at sunrise…"

                As Tristan began to ramble, Lane's subconscious noted the jingle of the bell above the door of the restaurant.  She glanced up, and her face drained of color.

                She was vaguely aware of Tristan's voice trailing off, and then asking, "Lane?  What's wrong?"

                Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.  "Remember that sign you were talking about?  I think you'd better start believing."

                Turning his head, he immediately locked eyes with Rory, who had just walked in with Ryan.  All he managed to choke out was, "Holy shit."

_To be continued…_


	10. Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for all the wonderful reviews I have received.  I feel very privileged that so many people feel compelled to voice their thoughts on my story.  That said, I want to plug my fellow authors, and remind people that if they read a story they really like, to please review it!

Thanks especially to Archangel, Bess, Christine, Coral, Liza, Miya, Nate, NeitJess, Roxy, Tay, and Trixie from FF—you are all awesome!

To anyone who mentioned it in their reviews, yes, Serendipity3 _is a real restaurant in NYC.  You can learn more about it at www.serendipity3.com.  I try to use as many real places as I can when writing._

Finally, this chapter's title quote is from _The Princess Bride. _

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Ten: Life is pain, highness.  Anyone who says otherwise is selling something…

                Jess' hand went still against Paris' stomach.  "What did you say?" he asked softly.

                She rolled over to face him, and he could see the tears in her eyes.  "I'm pregnant.  Please don't be upset—I know we didn't plan…"

                He silenced her babbling with a gentle kiss.  "Paris, why on earth would I be upset?  We're going to have a baby!  I can't imagine anything more wonderful than a brand new little person that's a part of both of us."

                She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.  "I'm so glad you feel that way!  I was so worried…"

                Jess rested his forehead against hers.  "Don't you know by now that whatever happens, we're in this together?  So the timing isn't exactly what we planned—big deal."

                Paris bit her lip nervously.  "You might have to put off getting your masters for a few more years."

                "It's just a piece of paper, Frenchie.  You and this baby are all that matter to me."

                Her tears were flowing freely by then.  "I'm such a wreck!  I can't believe the damn hormones are already kicking in!"

                Sliding his hand carefully between their bodies, Jess caressed her flat stomach, imagining how it would feel as their baby grew.  "How far along are you?"

                "About six weeks.  I'm due in late March or early April."

                He began tracing slow circles around her bellybutton with his fingertip.  "I can't believe I'm going to be a father."

                "I know."  She grinned mischievously.  "I'm actually a little surprised it didn't happen sooner, given your insatiable appetites."

                His eyebrows shot up.  "_My insatiable appetites?  __You were the one who tried to jump me in the hallway."_

                "Details, details.  Now shut up and kiss me."

*              *              *

                Struggling to catch his breath, Tristan turned back towards Lane, only to see her waving energetically at Rory and RJ.

                "What are you _doing?" he hissed._

                "I'm waving to my best friend," Lane shot back through clenched teeth.  "They already know we saw them, and I have a feeling they'd start to wonder if we just ignored them."

                Tristan bit back his response as the other couple approached the table.  "Hi guys!" Rory exclaimed brightly.  "This is too funny, running into you here."

                "It's positively serendipitous," Tristan said snidely.  He instantly regretted his tone when Rory, RJ, and Lane all stared at him like he had grown a second head.  Lamely, he added, "Uh, would you guys like to join us?"

                RJ looked like he wanted to refuse, but Rory chirped "Sure!" and immediately sat down in the chair between Lane and Tristan.  Her date had no choice but to walk around to the other side of the table and claim the only remaining seat, directly opposite her.

                "So what have you two been up to this evening?" Rory inquired.

                "Well, after you left, Tristan and I went to FAO Schwarz for a while.  Did you know he can play 'Heart and Soul' with his feet?"

                Rory and RJ both smiled, and RJ added, "Funny, that's not one of the skills listed on his résumé."

                "Anyway, Tristan took me to dinner at Tavern on the Green, so it seemed only fair to treat him to dessert.  We've just been sitting around discussing life and stuff."

                "What kind of stuff?" Rory asked, somewhat unnerved that Lane and Tristan had apparently bonded without her.

                "Oh, nothing much," Lane responded airily.  "Although, he was just telling me how he's thinking of investing in neon."

                At her remark, Tristan kicked her none-too-gently under the table.  "Ow!"

                "Yes, and Lane here was just saying that she expects stock in Ace bandages to skyrocket," Tristan said smoothly.

                Rory looked back and forth between her two friends.  Something was obviously going on between the two of them, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.  Standing abruptly, she announced, "Excuse me, I'm going to the ladies' room.  Lane?"

                The Korean girl gave her a blank look, and then comprehension seemed to dawn.  "Oh, right, okay.  I think I'll go too."

                When they had disappeared from sight, Tristan turned to RJ and asked, "You ever wonder why women never go to the bathroom alone?  I mean, what do they do in there?"

                "Talk about us, probably.  So…you and Lane seem pretty cozy.  You like her?"

                "Sure, Lane's great."

                "No, I mean, do you think you'll see her again?"

                Tristan gave his partner a funny look.  "You mean in a dating capacity?  I don't think so.  We both know we're better off as friends."

                "Too bad, man.  You seem like a good match."

                "Okay, you're starting to scare me, RJ.  One, since when do you ask so many questions about my personal life?  Two, you've seen me interact with Lane for what?  A grand total of three hours?  And three, she's a first-year resident who lives in Boston.  I'm not even sure she's _allowed to have a social life for the next couple years."_

                RJ shrugged and averted his gaze.  "I don't know, I guess I'd like to see you settle down, commit to a nice girl.  You haven't dated anyone seriously for so long…"

                "Neither have you," Tristan pointed out.

                "I know, but…  Look, have you ever gotten the feeling that a girl was 'the one'?  The end of the line, the person you can imagine spending the rest of your life with?"

                Tristan's face blanched, and he swallowed hard.  "Are you talking about Rory?" he queried softly.

                RJ nodded.  "Lorelai's just…so incredible.  I know I haven't known her very long, and maybe I'm jumping the gun, but I really have high hopes for this relationship."

                "Wow, I'm really happy for you, man," Tristan managed to choke out.

                RJ looked at him skeptically.  "Is that so?  Because from where I'm sitting, you don't look happy.  You look ready to puke.  I need you to be honest with me, T—are you going to have a problem with Lorelai dating me?"

                Tristan gazed steadily at the man he considered to be one of his best friends.  "What would you do if I said that I did have a problem with it?"

                "I'd say that I'm very sorry you feel that way, but Lorelai is too special to me to just walk away."

                Taking a deep breath, Tristan replied, "Then I don't have a problem with it.  You're both great people.  I hope you make each other really happy."

                RJ broke into a wide grin, and clapped Tristan on the shoulder.  "Thanks, T!  You're the best."

*              *              *

The ladies' room was deserted except for Rory and Lane.  As Lane ran a brush through her glossy dark hair, Rory fiddled with a small tube of lip gloss.

Tentatively, Rory said, "It seems like you and Tristan got to be pretty good friends today."

The brush stilled in mid-stroke.  "Yes, we did.  He's really a great guy.  I'm glad I got the chance to get to know him."

                "He seems so…different than I remember him."

                "It _has been nearly ten years, you know."_

                "I know, it's just…  Do you, um, like him?"

                "What if I do?"

                "That would be great!  I mean, you'd probably need to be careful—he was always kind of a player…"

                Lane set her brush down rather loudly on the counter.  "Good grief, Rory that was in high school!  His entire life is his work now!  He hardly dates at all!  What, exactly, do I need to be careful of?"

                "I don't know, I just don't want to see you get hurt, I guess."

                Heaving an exasperated sigh, Lane took a deep breath before speaking again.  "Rory, I love you, but sometimes you are emotionally stunted to a frightening degree.  For whatever reason, it is obviously bothering you that Tristan and I are getting along so well.  Yes, I like him.  That doesn't mean I want to date him.  Maybe instead of worrying about _my emotional well-being, you should think about why exactly you don't like him paying attention to me."_

                "Lane, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant…" Rory's voice was trembling.  "I guess I'm still not used to being around him.  It was stupid.  I'm sorry."

                "It's okay, really.  I think once you give him a chance, you'll be surprised by what you find."  Without waiting for Rory to respond, Lane exited the bathroom.

*              *              *

                When she got back to the table, Lane noticed that Tristan was looking unusually pale.  "Sorry that took so long," she commented.  "You know women in the bathroom."

                Ryan chuckled.  "Yeah, I was trying to explain to Tristan here why it is you guys go in groups.  Speaking of which, where's Lorelai?"

                "She should be out in just a minute.  There was, um, a little too much potpourri in there, and the smell was starting to get to me."  Noting that Tristan hadn't spoken a word since her return, Lane asked him, "Are you feeling okay?  Did we finally manage to wear you out?"

                He flashed a weak smile, a mere shadow of his usual dazzling grin.  "I think the frozen hot chocolate was a little more than my stomach can handle.  Would you mind if I called it a night?"

                "Not at all!  I'm actually feeling pretty tired myself."

                "I'll take you back to the Plaza then, and head home myself.  Besides, I'm sure Rory and RJ would like some time alone."

                RJ beamed.  "Thanks, I'd appreciate that."

                Rising from his chair, Tristan said, "Tell Rory I said good-bye, and to have a safe trip home."

                "Will do.  It was really nice meeting you this weekend, Lane," he added, holding out his hand.

                "Likewise."

                "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other in the future.  I look forward to it."

                "Yes, of course.  Tell Rory I'll see her later."

                "No problem.  I know she'll be sorry you guys had to leave."

                Lane and Tristan finally managed to make their exit from the restaurant, stopping only to pay their bill.  As soon as they were outside, Lane asked, "Okay, what really happened in there?  You look like hell."

                He stared down at his feet.  "Let's just say that I don't think you should invest in that neon sign anytime soon.  RJ and I talked while you guys were in the bathroom.  He really cares about her, Lane, and I know he's better for her than I could ever be."

                "Tristan, what exactly did you say?"

                "I gave him my blessing."

                "Oh, Tristan, no…"

*              *              *

                When Rory finally emerged from the bathroom, she was startled to discover Ryan alone at the table.  "Where'd everybody go?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

                "Tristan didn't feel well, and Lane was tired, so they went home."

                "Oh.  They seemed fine a few minutes ago."

                "I think they were just trying to be polite, sweetheart.  Tristan and I had a nice little talk, and I'm sure he wanted to give us some time alone."

                She tensed slightly.  "What did you talk about?"

                "You, of course!  I wanted to make sure that whatever history he had with you wasn't going to cause any problems."

                "Ryan, I already told you, we didn't really have a history…"

                "I know.  I guess I just needed to know that he believed that, too."

                "Why wouldn't he?"

                "Just a gut feeling I had.  Turns out I was wrong."

                "Well, good."  Yet, even as she smiled at Ryan, Rory couldn't explain the wave of disappointment that washed over her.  She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the feeling.  She and Tristan were just barely becoming friends.  That's all they would ever be.  That's all they ever could be.

                She was fine with that.

                Really.

_To be continued…_


	11. It's amazing the clarity that comes with...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's title quote is from _My Best Friend's Wedding.  If there was any justice in the world, "Kimmy" would have taken a powder.  What is the point of plunking down $7.50 if Julia Roberts isn't going to get her man?_

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Eleven: It's amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy.

                The hotel room was dark, and Lane appeared to be sound asleep when Rory finally got in that night.  She and Ryan had thoroughly enjoyed their dinner at Serendipity 3, with Rory practically swooning at the wonder of frozen mochaccino.  She had managed to put the strange discussions of Tristan out of her head.

                Now, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.  It had been a long day, and she was exhausted.  Ten minutes later, she was sliding between the luxurious sheets and relaxing against the fluffy pillows.

                Sleep, though, proved elusive.  Free from outside distractions, her mind continued to tick away.  She really liked Ryan.  In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Dean—but only the sweet, kind, considerate Dean, not the jealous, possessive, unreasonable Dean.

                Shoving that memory aside, Rory returned her thoughts to Ryan.  There was no question that she was attracted to him, with his dazzling green eyes and reddish-brown hair.  She smiled into the darkness.  He was also one hell of a kisser.  Since she had promised Lane that Sunday would be girls only, she and Ryan said their goodbyes that night.  Rory felt her body suffuse with warmth at the recollection of their kisses.  It was rare that she allowed herself to get caught up in a moment of passion.  Although she had lost her virginity to Dean years before, her experience with men was still rather limited.  She didn't want to follow a life path similar to her mother's, and in all honesty, she didn't care enough about most of the guys she dated to even consider the next step.

                With Ryan, however, she could not only imagine taking the next step, but every step that came after.  Rory knew it was foolish—they had only been on three dates, after all, four if you counted coffee at the airport—but she honestly believed it was fate that they had met.  He had definitely come into her life for a reason…

*              *                *

                Not too far away, Tristan was enduring his own bout with insomnia.  He kept hearing the words "Then I don't have a problem with it" repeating over and over in his head, like some sort of masochistic mantra.  Meanwhile, the sadistic little voice inside his mind kept whispering "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

                It was enough to make a man want to throw things.  Instead, he punched his pillow savagely and rolled out of bed.  Flipping on the bedside light, he padded over to his closet and proceeded to pull out a wooden box. Slightly larger than a briefcase, it was dusty from neglect and secured with a lock.

                Setting it on the floor in front of him, Tristan quickly spun the combination and lifted the lid.  The long-unused hinges squeaked in protest, and the swirling dust made his nose itch.

                No one who knew Tristan Janlen DuGrey would say that sentimentality was one of his defining traits, but then, no one had ever seen the contents of this box.  Slowly, carefully, he lifted each item out, arranging them in a loose circle around his body, like planets circling a dimming sun.

                First out was the invitation to the birthday party at Rory's grandparents' house, followed by a ticket from the dance where he fought with Dean.  Next there was a small piano ornament that he hadn't been able to resist because it reminded him of their kiss.  The copy of _Casablanca had been purchased after he figured out who Louis was.  A pair of unused PJ Harvey tickets seemed to mock him, and he quickly shifted his focus to the last item in the box.  The paper was yellowed with age, but the printing still stood out black and bold.  Absently, Tristan traced his finger over the lines that read_

_Act V_

_Tristan DuGrey as Romeo_

_Lorelai Gilmore as Juliet_

                Rubbing a weary hand across his eyes, Tristan made a decision.  It was time to stop living in the past.  He had given RJ his word, and he wouldn't break it.  How did that song go?  "If you love somebody, set them free"?  It was time to set Rory free, even if she never realized how he felt.

                Before he could change his mind, he scooped up the invitation, the dance and concert tickets, and the program.  The piano ornament he tossed in the garbage; the DVD he left on the floor.  Heading into the living room—which the cleaning service had made immaculate, no questions asked—he lit a small fire in the fireplace.  Slowly and deliberately, Tristan watched the scraps of his history with Rory reduce to ashes.

                When the fire flickered out, he lay down where he sat, and at last, he slept.

*              *                *

                Rory flung open the door to her apartment, tossed her small suitcase inside, and stumbled in the general direction of the couch.  She and Lane had spent the morning and afternoon sightseeing in New York, and then made the drive back to Hartford.  Even as Rory collapsed in a crumpled heap on her couch, Lane was determinedly continuing her trek to Boston.

                Out of the corner of her eye, Rory saw that the voice mail indicator on her phone was blinking rapidly.  Groaning, she sort of rolled off the couch and crawled/stumbled to the phone.  Punching in the appropriate codes, she sprawled on the floor and listened to her messages.

                "Hey Ror!  Billy, Emma, and Charlotte want to know when their big sister is coming to Stars Hollow for a visit.  Hope you had a nice trip to New York.  Did you bring us presents?  Call me when you get in.  Later babe!"

                "Rory, it's Paris.  Call me when you get home.  We need to talk."

                _Well, that sounds ominous, Rory thought.  Deciding she would rather get the bad news first, she dialed Paris and Jess' familiar number._

                "Hello?"

                "Jess?  It's Rory."

                "Hey, how was your trip?"

                "Nice.  Not at all relaxing, but a lot of fun.  I got a message from your wife.  Is she home?"

                "Yeah, hang on."

                "Rory?"

                "Hi Paris.  How are you?"

                "I'm fine.  Look, we need to talk."

                "Yeah, you said as much in your message.  What's up?"

                "I know it's Sunday, and I suppose this could have waited until Monday, but I really just wanted to get it over with…"

                "Paris?  Get to the point.  I'm tired."

                "Snippy, too.  I know you haven't been particularly thrilled with the idea of an online edition of the magazine…"

                "Actually, I've been giving it some thought.  So before you launch into some huge diatribe about how good it will be for business, let me say now that I think you're right.  I may have even discovered who should design the website."

                "Really?  And who might that be?"

                "Ryan and Tristan."

                There was a pregnant pause.  "I see.  Well, it's interesting to hear that you've changed your mind.  I was actually going to tell you that I think you're right.  It would be a lot of work, and the timing isn't very good."

                "Wait, you're agreeing with my original stance?"

                "Yes, but since you're so enamored of the idea now, I think we should go ahead with it.  In fact, I'd like to put you in charge of the project."

                "What?  Why?  Hold on…this has been your baby since the beginning.  What changed?"

                "It's funny you should mention babies…"

                It took Rory a minute, but then she screeched, "You're _pregnant?"_

                "Yes."

                "Oh my God!  Congratulations!  How long have you known?  How far along are you?  When are you due?  Are you excited?  Is Jess excited?"

                "Thank you, two days, six weeks, March or April, yes, and yes."

                "Paris, I'm so happy for you.  If there's anything I can do, please just let me know."

                "You can agree to head up the online magazine."

                "Pregnant women are devious," Rory grumbled.  "Fine.  I'll do it.  We're supposed to conference call with Ryan and Tristan tomorrow."

                "Are you sure working with them wouldn't be a problem for you?"

                "Why would it be a problem?  Ryan and I obviously get along just fine, and I felt like Tristan and I really connected as friends this weekend."

                "Hmm.  I just don't know if it's wise to mix business with a romantic relationship.  I think I would be more comfortable if you worked with Tristan."

                Rory sighed.  "Paris, can we fight about this tomorrow?  I really am exhausted."

                "I suppose.  Just think about what I said."

                "I will.  Oh, and Paris?"

                "What?"

                "I really am happy for you and Jess."

                "Thanks.  We're pretty thrilled, too."

                "I'll see you tomorrow."

                "Good-night."

                Hanging up the phone, Rory took a deep breath, then picked it up again and dutifully called her mother.

*              *                *

                When Paris went to join her husband on the couch, he gave her a questioning look.  "I thought you were giving up on the online magazine?"

                "I was, but it turns out that Rory wants to go ahead with it after all.  Who am I to deny her?"

                "And if you happen to do a little matchmaking between her and Tristan in the process, all the better, right?"

                Paris ducked her head guiltily.  "You caught that, huh?  It's not _really matchmaking.  I honestly don't think that people who are dating should work together."_

                "There's a Grand Canyon-sized hole in that logic, Frenchie."

                "Oh, really?  And what might that be?"

                "Hmm, how about the fact that you don't want Rory and Ryan to work together because they're dating, but what you really want to happen is for Rory to realize that she and Tristan should be dating, despite the fact that they work together?"

                Paris groaned.  "Have I mentioned how much I hate my hormones?  I am not supposed to be the illogical one in this relationship!"

                "Hey!"

                "And whoever thought the day would come when I was actually _trying to get Rory Gilmore to date Tristan DuGrey?"_

                "They are two of your best friends, so it at least makes some degree of sense."

                "Gee, that's so encouraging."

                "Just calling it like I see it.  What are you going to do if one of them happens to figure out your little scheme?"

                She shrugged.  "I'll just blame it on the pregnancy."

                He eyed her warily.  "You're going to milk that for all it's worth, aren't you?"

                "Hell yes!  All my life, I've been the dependable one, the logical one, the rational one, the focused one.  It's my turn to be flighty and have whims."

                "Um, okay.  Any particular whims I should be aware of?"

                "Well…I was thinking that my charming, handsome husband could go draw a bubble bath for two."

                He gently poked her stomach.  "Don't you mean three?"

                "Who said you were invited?" she smirked.

                When he moved to tickle her, she cried, "Okay, okay!  I meant three!  Geez."

                "Your wish is my command."

                "Ooh, I like the sound of that…"

*              *                *

                Boston traffic was horrible, as usual.  Idiot tourists just could not seem to figure out that one lane was Beacon and the other lane was Commonwealth.  Was that really such a difficult concept?  Laying on the horn as yet another Volvo swerved in front of her, Lane let out a string of Korean curses.

                The curses got louder and more colorful when she felt the car jolt.  Banging her head against the steering wheel, she realized that she had just been rear-ended.  This was so not what she needed on top of this weekend's Tristan-Rory-Ryan saga.

                Slowly pulling out of traffic and over to the curb, she grabbed her insurance card and purse, and got out of the car.  As the other driver approached her, already apologizing profusely, Lane's eyes widened in shock.

                "Henry?" she whispered.

                "Lane?  Is that you?"

                Turning her face to the sky, she mumbled, "Someone up there is playing cosmic chess with my life, and I don't like it!"

_To be continued…_


	12. How's that for being born under a bad si...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: The long overdue next chapter is finally here.  I apologize for the delay, but as stated in a previously posted author's note, we had a death in the family.  I hope to update with more regularity from now on.

This chapter's title quote is from _Ferris Bueller's Day Off.  Really.  It is._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Twelve: How's that for being born under a bad sign?

                "Wow, Henry, it's been a long time."

                "I can't believe I just hit your car," he mumbled.

                "Well, it's not how I would have planned an impromptu reunion, but then, I guess you don't really plan impromptu reunions, huh?"

                "No, not really.  So, uh, how have you been?"

                She grinned.  "Not bad.  You know, the last nine years have been pretty busy, what with college and med school."

                "You're a doctor?" he inquired, mild surprise in his tone.

                "Mm-hmm.  First-year resident at Massachusetts General, actually."

                "I'm impressed.  I never knew you were interested in medicine."

                "When I knew you, I wasn't.  People change, right?  So, what brings you to Boston?"

                "Business.  I decided to stray somewhat from becoming a doctor, and now I'm a malpractice lawyer."

                "Good to know, just in case!" she chuckled.  "How long are you in town?"

                "Just tonight."

                Lane's face fell.  "Oh.  I guess going out for coffee isn't an option, then…"

                "Oh, I would love to, but I really have to keep this trip short.  My, um, wife could go into labor any day now.  I didn't even want to come, but the partners insisted."

                "You're married?  Congratulations," she said softly.

                "Yeah, two years in November.  Her name is Leah."

                "Where did you guys meet?"

                "College.  We were lab partners in o-chem."

                "How romantic," Lane laughed.

                "Yeah, it was love at first ester."

                "Some things are just meant to be, I suppose."

                Henry raised an eyebrow.  "Do you think this meeting is one of them?"

                Lane sat down on the trunk of her car.  "Let's just say that this isn't my first encounter with Chilton students this weekend."

                "Are you still in touch with Rory?"

                "Of course!  I was talking about Tristan, though."

                "DuGrey?  Wow, I haven't thought about him in years.  How is he doing?"

                "Pretty well.  He owns his own business."

                "That's not surprising.  How did you meet up with him, anyway?"

                "Believe it or not, Rory is dating Tristan's business partner.  The four of us spent the weekend in New York."

                "How does Tristan feel about that turn of events?"

                "What do you mean?"

                "Come on, back in high school, everybody knew that Tristan was hung up on Rory.  She was the first girl he ever took seriously."

                Lane cocked her head thoughtfully.  "Henry, that was all the way back in high school.  Why should he care now who she dates?"

                "I don't know, maybe because he never got to date her himself?  Tristan never did like to lose."

                "Huh.  I never considered that.  He probably _would think it an affront to his manhood."_

                "So why the sudden interest in DuGrey's thought processes?"

                "Would it shock you to discover that Tristan has his boxers in a bunch over Rory and Ryan's dating status?"

                "Rory and Ryan?  Isn't there some kind of law against alliterative relationships?"

                "Not really the point, Cho."

                "Right, right.  Are you sure Tristan's reaction isn't just wounded pride?"

                An air of determination transforming her features, Lane replied, "That's what I intend to find out."

                "Well, good luck with that."  Henry glanced at his watch.  "I'm sorry, as much as I'd like to relive high school travails, I really do need to get going.

                "Oh, right."  They quickly exchanged insurance information, hugged goodbye, and went their separate ways.  Sliding into her now imperfect vehicle, Lane leaned back in her seat and mumbled, "Definitely cosmic chess.  Too bad I'm nothing but a pawn."

*              *              *

                When Rory got to work on Monday, she immediately headed for Paris' office, wanting to congratulate her friend in person.  Poking her head in the door, Rory couldn't help grinning when she saw the other woman huddled intently over her computer.  Apparently not even pregnancy was going to slow down Paris.

                "Morning," she said quietly.

                Paris finally looked up.  "Hi, Rory.  Did you have a nice weekend?"

                "Yeah, it was great, but not as great as yours.  Are you excited?"

                She couldn't contain the radiant smile that blossomed across her face.  "Ecstatic, actually.  It's funny, really—I used to have a hard time imagining myself even getting married, let alone having children.  If I ever _did decide I wanted kids, I figured it would be in my mid-to-late thirties, after I was well-established in my career."_

                "Life has a funny way of working out sometimes."

                "Yes it does.  Now that I am pregnant, I can't imagine it being any other way."

                "I'm so happy for you, Paris."

                "Thanks.  But enough of this sentimental nonsense.  We have work to do."

                "Good to know some things haven't changed," Rory smirked.

                "We do still have a magazine to publish, you know."

                "How could I possibly forget, with you here to remind me?"

                "Just doing my job."

                "Speaking of our jobs, there are some things we need to figure out before we talk to Ryan and Tristan."

                "Are you still willing to head up the online edition?"

                "I said I would.  I won't go back on that.  I just can't do it alone."

                "You won't have to—I'll do as much as I can, and you'll have support from the guys as well."

                "That is, of course, if we decide to hire them," Rory commented with a grin.

                "I don't think that will be a problem," Paris remarked.  "I've had them in mind for a while, but I thought you might be opposed to working with Tristan."

                "Not to worry.  I'm sure we'll get along famously.  Anyway, I might end up working primarily with Ryan."

                "Rory, we're not going to hire them just so that you can play footsie with your boyfriend," Paris admonished.

                "I know that.  Still, can I help it if that turns out to be an added perk?"

                "You're hopeless, Gilmore."

                "Why, thank you!  My mother would be thrilled to hear you say so."

                "How not surprising."

                "Anyway… What else do we need to do before the teleconference?"

                For the next thirty minutes, Paris and Rory worked out the details of what they wanted to discuss with Ryan and Tristan.  After a brief respite for coffee—at Rory's insistence—they sat down in the conference room at ten a.m.  Dialing up ILRG on the video phone, their virtual meeting was quickly underway.

                "Good morning, ladies!" Ryan said cheerfully.

                At his tone, Rory joked, "Someone is awfully chipper for a Monday morning."

                "Why shouldn't I be?  I spent the weekend with the most amazing woman…"

                Paris quickly cleared her throat, wanting to halt the flirtatious banter before it triggered her morning sickness.  "Can we get down to business, please?"

                Rory blushed and ducked her head.  "Of course.  Sorry."

                "What exactly did you have in mind for this online edition?" Tristan inquired.

                Leaning back in her chair, Rory allowed Paris to take control of the meeting.

                "Primarily, we want to keep the same tone that our readers have come to expect from the print edition, but customize it for the Internet-savvy consumer."

                Tristan chuckled.  "Paris, _everyone is an Internet-savvy consumer these days!"_

                Paris leaned forward eagerly.  "That's exactly my point!  As much as my partner and I cling to the archaic format of the printed word, the reality of it is that probably 90% of our target audience would rather get online than pick up a newspaper or magazine."

                "And you're willing to cater to that?" Ryan asked.  "What if an Internet edition comes at the expense of the actual magazine?"

                "The way I see it, this new venture should serve as a supplement to the magazine, not a replacement.  Give the online readers a taste of what we're all about.  Make the online articles related to what's in the magazine; maybe even include the first paragraphs of the print articles.  Bottom line is, leave the reader wanting more.  Compel them to go out and buy the magazine, maybe even get a subscription."

                "Kind of like bait," Tristan smirked.  "Paris, have I mentioned recently that I love the way you think?"

                "Not today, but that's okay.  Now, why don't the two of you show us why we should hire you?"

                For the next twenty minutes, Rory and Paris sat back and watched ILRG's very impressive presentation.  The web sites they had designed for their various clients were both visually interesting and easy to navigate.  It was abundantly clear how that had managed to win so many contracts away from their larger, older competitors.

                When they finished, the decision was clear.  Rory and Paris exchanged a quick glance, and when Rory nodded, Paris announced, "Congratulations.  You've got the job."

                "That's great!" replied Tristan.  "It will be just like old times at Chilton, Paris—you and I working together.  I'll be collaborating with you on the actual concept and design of the site.  Once that's finalized, RJ will handle the actual coding."

                Paris shot a wary glance at her partner.  "Actually, as of this Sunday, it was decided that Rory would be spearheading the project."

                Tristan managed to limit his visible shock reaction to a rising of his eyebrows.  "What prompted the change?  I didn't think Rory was even in favor of this venture."

                "Since this is a long-term project, I knew I wouldn't be capable of seeing it through to completion.  So, I'm passing the reins to Rory."

                "Paris, you're the queen of long-term…"

                "I'm pregnant, Tristan."

                This time, he couldn't mask his astonishment.  "Wow.  Paris, that's great.  Congratulations."

                Ryan echoed his sentiments, and then Tristan focused his attention on Rory.  "Looks like it's you and me, Mary.  Think you can handle that?"

                Rory feigned disinterest, and then said, "I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

                Tristan grinned.  "I guess you can handle it…_Rory."_

                "Getting back to business…" Paris said sharply.  "When can you come to Hartford to hammer out the contractual details?"

                They quickly set up the details of the upcoming meeting, and then ended the videoconference.

                Leaning back in her chair, Rory commented, "Well, this should be interesting."

*              *              *

                In New York, RJ and Tristan were having a similar conversation.

                "So, you and Lorelai are going to be working together," RJ said, trying not to let his unease show.

                Tristan shrugged casually.  "Yeah, when we're not acting like ten-year-olds, I think we can make a pretty good team."

                "Are you sure it won't be a problem for you?  I mean, I could probably handle the design.  You know I've wanted to get more involved with that aspect of the business."

                "RJ, these are my friends.  I want the best for them.  I can't give them the best with a rookie designer.  I'll be fine—don't worry about it."

                "If you're positive…"

                "I am.  I'm a professional, remember?  Or at least, that's what I tell myself when I'm ordering business cards."

                "Alright.  How are you planning to work the logistics?"

                "Once we get the financials set and start working in earnest, I plan to take an apartment in Hartford, for the sake of convenience."

                Before RJ had the chance to continue their discussion, Tristan's cell phone rang.

                "DuGrey speaking."

                "Do you honestly still have feelings for Rory, or do you just have something to prove because she never went out with you?"

                "I'm fine, Lane, and how are you?" he responded dryly.

                Hearing Lane's name, RJ smirked and left the conference room.  Following him, Tristan shut the door as Lane began to rant.

                "Don't start with me, DuGrey.  I've had just about enough of you stupid Chilton boys and your stupid women!"

                "Hold up a sec.  When exactly did I become more than one person?"

                "As terrifying as the thought of you having a clone it, I'm talking about Henry Cho.  He rear-ended my car last night."

                "You're kidding!  What a weird coincidence.  How is Henry?  Did you two date way back when?"

                "Yeah, for like a minute and a half," she replied sarcastically.  "And he's married now, thanks _so much for asking."_

                "Aw, Lane, I'm sorry."

                "Yeah.  Hey!  You're avoiding my question!"

                "Damn.  Fine, I'll answer your question.  Yes, I really do have genuine feelings for Rory, but I gave RJ my word that I wouldn't interfere with their relationship.  Happy?"

                "As long as it's not just an ego trip," she grumbled.

                "What difference does it make to you, anyway?"

                "Hey, if I'm going to meddle in my friend's love life, it better be for a good reason.  Maybe Henry and I weren't fated to be together, but I like you, Tristan, and I think you deserve a chance with Rory.  Besides, I have to live vicariously through _someone."_

                He chuckled.  "Dr. Kim, I'm glad you're on my side."

_To be continued…_


	13. Let's not change, Tristan. Let's just g...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers: May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Teach Me Tonight._

Rating: R

Summary: Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's note:  This chapter's quote is from the miniseries _Anne of Avonlea _(also known as _Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel_)

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Thirteen: Let's not change, Tristan.  Let's just go on being good friends.

                Nearly a week had gone by since the first teleconference between ILRG and G & G.  Ryan and Tristan had flown in from New York to finalize the deal, and the four of them signed a contract.  Ryan had flown out that same night after a romantic dinner with Rory, but Tristan had stuck around for a few days trying to find an apartment with a short-term lease.  So far, he hadn't had much luck.

                Tristan tipped back in his chair with an exasperated sigh.  He had viewed close to thirty apartments since Wednesday.  It was now Friday, and he was ready to tear his hair out.

                Taking a bit of her salad, Paris looked at him thoughtfully from across the table.  "There must have been _something_ halfway decent," she commented.

                He allowed the front legs of his chair to bang back down on the floor.  "Nothing.  There was nothing, Paris.  Either they wanted to lock me into a yearlong lease, or the place was a total dive!  I live across the street from Central Park, for crying out loud!  There's only so far I can lower myself!"

                "Are you sure you've exhausted all the possibilities?"

                He viciously speared a bite of chicken.  "Positive.  I've spoken with five different realtors.  None of them have found anything else."

                "Well, I might be able to help."

                Tristan's eyes brightened.  "Seriously?  I hope you haven't been holding out on me all this time."

                "I haven't!  I just found out about this today.  A…friend of mine mentioned that her neighbor was going abroad for an indefinite amount of time, and is looking for a subletter."

                "Sounds interesting.  Tell me more."

                "Well, the building is old, but very well-maintained.  It's in a residential neighborhood, and the rent is reasonable."

                "It sounds too good to be true.  Do you have the address?"

                "Not on me, but I can get it to you later today."

                "Please do.  I'm getting desperate.  I don't think I could handle bunking on your couch."

                Paris arched an eyebrow.  "What makes you think we'd let you?  Anyway, why our couch?  Rory has a guest room."

                He laughed sharply.  "RJ would just love that.  Besides, Rory would probably murder me in my sleep."

                "And you would probably deserve it," she said lightly.

                "Gee, thanks."

                "Are you sure the two of you are going to be able to work on this project together?"

                "Good grief, why does everyone keep asking me that?"

                "Well, Charlie Brown, probably because you called her 'Mary' during a conference call," Paris snapped.  "It doesn't exactly instill confidence that you'll keep things professional."

                "Oh my God, you're channeling Lucy Van Pelt."

                "Five cents please," she grinned.

                "Paris, trust me.  I'm not a blockhead, and Rory isn't the Little Red-Haired Girl.  We'll get along just fine—particularly if she can keep her gushing about RJ to a minimum."

                "I hope you're right."

                "Like I could be wrong?" he smirked.  "Now tell me, have you and Jess started picking out baby names?"

                "Are you kidding me?  We still haven't figured out what to do about the whole Jewish-Catholic issue."

                "How devout is Jess in his faith?"

                "Not particularly, but he seems pretty adamant about raising the baby Catholic."

                "Have you spoken to anyone about it?"

                "Yes, we've met with both a priest and a rabbi."

                Tristan grinned.  "Sounds like the start of a bad joke."

                "This isn't funny, DuGrey!"

                "I'm sorry, Paris.  What did they have to say?"

                She sighed.  "It went pretty much as expected.  Both of them advocated raising the child in their respective religions.  In other words, we ended up exactly where we started."

                "Have you considered exposing him—or her—to both Catholicism and Judaism?"

                "I've thought about it a little, but I'm worried that by not choosing one or the other, he or she won't come to truly understand or appreciate either one."

                Tristan chewed thoughtfully before replying.  "That's possible, yes, but it would be up to you and Jess to prevent that from happening."

                "I suppose it's worth mentioning to Jess, see what he thinks."

                Chuckling, he commented, "I'll bet you never anticipated this to be one of the dilemmas of parenting."

                "Honestly?  I never really anticipated parenthood."

                "The best laid plans, right?"

                "Speaking of plans, have you had any revelations about how you're going to design our website?"

                "Well, pending my actually finding a place to live, I want to have a day-long brainstorming session with Rory—one room, two people, unlimited supplies of coffee, pizza, and Twizzlers."

                Paris stared at him, her eyes wide.  "That sounds absolutely terrifying."

                "Oh, trust me, it is.  But, some of my best designs have resulted from that exact technique."

                "Suddenly, I'm really glad that I handed this project off to Rory."

                Grinning, he replied, "I'm sure she's thrilled too."

*              *                *

                "Lorelai Hayden."

                "Hi sweetie!"

                Rory smiled into the phone.  "Hi mom.  Finally get the twins to go down for their lunchtime nap?"

                Lorelai heaved an audible sigh.  "Yes, thank God.  I love the girls, but sometimes…"

                "I know the feeling."

                "Oh really, Ms. Single-Successful-Career Woman?  How do you figure that?"

                "I work with Paris, remember?"

                "Hey, no fair!  I thought you weren't going to play the Paris trump card anymore!"

                "Right, just like you don't barter sex for coffee with Luke?"

                There was silence on the other end of the line.

                "Mom, stop sticking your tongue out at me."

                "How did you know?"

                "I'm psychic."

                "Ooh, then can you use your powers to divine when my prodigal daughter is going to return to the fold?"

                "I'm hardly prodigal.  Anyway, I'm planning on coming out next weekend with Paris and Jess."

                "Goody!  But leave Paris and Jess there."

                "Mom!"

                "Fine, fine.  I'll play nice."

                "You're still bitter about my fractured wrist, aren't you?"

                "I still maintain that the hoodlum was entirely to blame," Lorelai grumbled.

                "Yeah, well, back then you also believed that Dean could pretty much do no wrong, so what does that say about your judgment?"

                "Low blow."

                "Too bad.  Jess is family now."

                "So is Sherry, but I don't see you singing _her_ praises."

                "True, but Sherry is a neurotic, obsessive-compulsive freak job who has somehow managed to snow dad all these years, whereas Jess is a mature, productive member of society who just so happens to make my business partner happier than I ever thought was possible."

                "Hmph.  Remind me again why you didn't become a lawyer?  You could be supporting me in my reclining years."

                "Because life isn't like _Legally Blonde_, and I don't voluntarily swim with sharks."

                "Fine.  Hey, how's the partnership with Tristan going?"

                "It's with both Tristan _and_ Ryan, first off, and we haven't done anything beyond signing the contract yet.  He's still looking for an apartment with a short-term lease."

                "Let me get this straight—Tristan is going to move to Hartford and work day in and day out with you, while Ryan wanders alone and aimless through Manhattan?  Sounds convenient."

                "Tristan and I are _not_ going to be working day in and day out together.  I'll still be writing for the magazine, remember?  And Ryan is going to be running the business and dealing with their other clients."

                "I still think it's just asking for a _Romeo & Juliet_ moment."

                "Then you think too much.  Tristan and I have only ever been just friends.  That's all we'll ever be."

                "Sure, Anne."

                In the few moments Rory took to ponder that comment, Lorelai hung up—just before her daughter shouted, "He is _not_ Gilbert!"

                Muttering under her breath, Rory replaced with receiver with quite a bit more force than necessary.  When it rang again almost immediately, she snatched it up and yelled, "I'm confiscating all of your L.M. Montgomery books!"

                "Um, okay," came the timid reply.

                "Lane!  Oh, God, I'm sorry!  I thought you were my mother, calling back to continue harassing me."

                "What's she fixating on now?"

                "Just some wacky analogy between Anne and Gilbert and me and Tristan.  I swear, sometimes I wonder if Luke spikes her coffee."

                There was no response from her best friend.  "Lane?  Are you still there?"

                "Huh?  Oh, yeah.  You know, I could totally see myself as Diana.  Unfortunately, that means I'll have to marry some chubby guy named Fred."

                "I'm going to hang up on you," Rory threatened.

                Lane ignored her.  "Although, I think my mother is more like Marilla than Mrs. Barry.  Ooh!  And Miss Patty is totally Mrs. Lynde!"

                "Are you done yet?" inquired Rory dryly.

                "Sorry.  I couldn't help myself—I always wanted to live in Avonlea."

                "No you didn't.  You just wanted to hook up with that guy that played Gilbert."

                "True.  I wonder whatever happened to him?"

                "Not a clue.  He's probably looking for a young Korean doctor to support him."

                "Cute.  Must I remind you of the Jason Priestly-as-"Teen Angel"-on-the-_New Mickey Mouse Club_ incident?"

                "You promised never to mention that!" choked out Rory.

                "Your point being?"

                "My point being that I'm not the one who thought Brian Austin Green had musical talent."

                Lane gasped.  "I was nine!"

                "Your point being?"

                "Fine.  Stalemate.  Moving on…did Tristan find a place to live yet?"

                "Do I look like his social secretary?"

                "Okay, wrong subject change.  Take two.  How are things with Ryan?"

                A dreamy look passed over Rory's features.  "They're great.  He's driving up tomorrow morning, and then we're going to go see all the covered bridges in Connecticut."

                "Awww…"

                "Oh, hush.  I really like him, Lane.  I haven't felt this way about anyone is such a long time.  I think he could be the one."

                Lane stifled a sigh.  "I'm happy for you, Ror.  Just promise me you won't run off to Vegas with him, okay?"

                "I promise—but I can't rule out Atlantic City!"

*              *                *

                Dusk was slowly settling over Stars Hollow when Lorelai Danes dropped onto the porch swing beside her husband.  Swiveling around, she rested her head in his lab and allowed her feet to dangle over the side.  Automatically, Luke began to stroke her hair, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

                As Lorelai's eyes began to drift shut, he said quietly, "She's a smart girl, Lor.  She'll figure it out eventually."

                Her eyes flew open, and she gazed intently into his.  "How do you always seem to know what I'm thinking?"

                He shrugged.  "You're predictable.  Completely insane, but predictable."

                She reached up and playfully slugged him in the chest.  "Watch it mister."

                "Okay, okay.  I also heard you on the phone with Sookie earlier."

                "Cheater!"  Her expression sobered.  "I just want her to be happy, Luke."

                "Maybe this Ryan guy makes her happy."

                She sighed.  "That's what I thought about Max and Christopher, once upon a time.  It took your miscreant nephew to show me how wrong I was.  I don't want her to end up wasting all the time we did."

                "How do you know that Tristan is the one she's supposed to be with?"

                "A mother knows these things.  Even _my_ mother got a clue about you and me before I did.  Besides, between Lane and Paris, I'm practically getting daily updates on the situation.  There's something there, Luke, whether my darling daughter wants to admit it or not."

                "She'll be home next weekend.  Maybe you can talk to her about it then."

                "There's really no point—she's too much like me.  She's not going to believe me unless she _wants_ to believe me."

                "You know, she is an adult now, Lorelai.  She's doing pretty well so far.  You have to let her live her own life, make her own mistakes."

                "I know.  I just don't want to see her get hurt."

                "Neither do I.  You know I would do anything to prevent that."

                Lorelai grinned.  "Yeah, between you, Christopher, my father, Jess, and probably even Tristan, this Ryan guy had better watch his step."

                "Personally, I would worry more about you, your mother, Paris, and Lane."

                "Funny, funny man.  Now shut up and kiss me."

                Luke happily obliged.

*              *                *

                Peering intently at the small piece of paper Paris had given him, Tristan quickly dialed the specified number.

                "Hello?"

                "Hi, yes, I'm trying to reach Jenny Calabrese."

                "Speaking."           

                "Jenny, hi.  My name is Tristan DuGrey.  A friend of my told me that you're looking to sublet your apartment."

                "Yes, I am."

                "Have you found anyone yet?"

                "No.  I haven't even put an ad in the paper yet."

                "Would you be willing to hold off on that until I could take a look at the place?"

                "I suppose.  When exactly did you have in mind?"

                "Do you have any time tomorrow?"

                "Sure.  I'm just going to be packing."

                Within a few moments, they had set up an appointment for eleven o'clock the following morning.  He smiled as he switched off the phone.  Things were definitely looking up.

_To be continued…_


	14. It's classified. I could tell you, but ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: Yet another set-up chapter.  I promise that chapter 15 will have actual Rory/Tristan interaction.

This chapter's quote is from _Top Gun._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Fourteen: It's classified.  I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

                Rory was putting the finishing touches on a picnic lunch when the buzzer sounded in her apartment on Saturday morning.  Her face broke into a wide grin, and she hurried to answer the door.  She found Ryan waiting patiently on the front step, and as he opened his mouth to greet her, she pulled him into an intense kiss.  He offered no resistance or protestations, but simply threaded his fingers through her flowing hair and pulled her closer.

                "What do you say we forego the covered bridges and just stay here today?" he murmured throatily.

                She giggled and pulled away, shaking her head.  "It is way too beautiful of a day to stay holed up in here, no matter how tempting the offer."

                "You're sure I can't persuade you?"

                "Positive.  Besides, my neighbor is moving out tomorrow, at least temporarily, so she's going to be packing everything up, thumping around, and just generally making a ruckus."

                He chuckled.  "A ruckus?"

                "Bite me."

                He gently nipped her earlobe, and then commented, "I think that phrase went out of use about ten years ago."

                "What are you, a linguist?"

                He trailed kisses along her jaw line before responding.  "To be honest, I'm not really all that concerned with words right now."

                "Ryan…"

                "Lorelai…"

                Resolutely, she stepped away from Ryan.  "Those covered bridges are waiting," she said softly.

                "Haven't they already been waiting several hundred years?"

                She was beginning to get slightly frustrated.  "Please, you know I want to see all of them while the light is still good."

                He exhaled a resigned sigh.  "You're going to use this for an article, aren't you?"

                She flushed slightly.  "Well, yes, but I wouldn't enjoy the research nearly as much without you."

                "God, you sound like Tristan.  Every once in a while, it's okay to leave work at work."

                Rory smiled.  "Not for a journalist."

                "I give up.  Let's get going."

                She bounced up on the balls of her feet and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Thank you!  I just have to grab our lunch and my camera."

                Within minutes, they were comfortably ensconced in Ryan's silver Lexus, heading out of Hartford.

                Mere minutes later, a black BMW with rental tags pulled up in front of the modest brick building.  Double-checking the address, Tristan emerged from the car, popped off his designer sunglasses, and slipped them into the breast pocket of his sport coat.  Climbing the steps, he pressed the button marked "B."

                "Hello?"

                "Jenny Calabrese?"

                "Yes?"

                "This is Tristan DuGrey.  We have an appointment?"

                "Come on up."

                Hearing the door lock buzz, he let himself in and mounted the staircase to the first-floor landing.  Apartment A was on his right, B to his left.  When he knocked on the latter, it was immediately opened by a petite woman with curly red hair and lively green eyes.

                "Miss Calabrese?"

                The woman giggled.  "Mr. DuGrey, I presume?  And please, call me Jenny."

                He extended his hand, which she accepted with a firm grip.  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jenny—and it's Tristan."

                "Please come in, Tristan."

                He stepped across the threshold and nearly tripped over several large cardboard packing boxes.

                "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jenny exclaimed.  "I should warn you—there's stuff everywhere.  I'm not the tidiest packer in the world."

                He smiled.  "Don't worry about it."

                "Let me give you the grand tour."

                As he followed her down the short entry hall, she inquired, "What brings you to Hartford?"

                "Business, actually.  My company just signed a contract with a local publishing firm to develop a web site, so I'll be spending a lot of time in the area."

                "Now, when you say your company, do you mean the company you work for, or do you actually own it?"

                "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

                She blushed.  "I apologize.  This isn't the first time my big mouth and curiosity have gotten me into trouble."

                "Don't worry about it!  I find it kind of refreshing.  And to answer your question, it really is my company, although I do have a partner now.  I got started about three years ago."

                "That sounds so exciting!  I'd love to be able to do something like that."

                "It's more hard work than excitement.  What about you?  I hear you're going overseas."

                "You're rather well-informed, aren't you?"

                "I have my ways."

                "I'm sure you do.  Anyway, yes, I'm going to be spending at least the next six months in Rome, working on my doctoral thesis in pre-Christian theology."

                "You're a PhD candidate?  Impressive."

                "Thank you.  Anyhow, as you can see, it's a one-bedroom apartment.  There's a full bathroom off the bedroom, and a half-bath over there," she said, pointing to indicate the location.  "I'll be leaving all of my furniture here, but there's a storage locker in the basement.  You can put some of my stuff down there if you'd rather bring in your own things."

                "I'm sure your furniture will be fine—I'm trying to keep this move as hassle-free as possible."

                "Makes sense.  Now, all the utilities—heat, electric, and water—are included, so all you'll have to worry about it rent and the telephone."

                "Sounds great.  How are the neighbors?"

                "They're okay.  There are only four apartments in the building, and I don't really know the people up in C and D.  The girl over in A is sweet enough.  She keeps pretty much to herself, though."

                "What, no wild parties on the weekends?"

                She grinned.  "Sorry."

                "I'll live.  The place looks great.  How much per month?"

                She named a surprisingly low figure, which he quickly agreed to.  She answered a few more of his questions, and they sealed the day with a handshake.

                "So when can I move in?" he inquired.

                "Tomorrow, if you want.  My flight to Rome leaves LaGuardia at noon."

                "You're flying out of New York?"

                "Yeah.  There's not exactly an overabundance of flights to Italy from Bradley."

                "Good point.  Well, since you're leaving so soon, what do you say I take you out for a farewell luncheon?"

                "I'd like that.  Just let me go change."

                When she disappeared into the bedroom, Tristan pulled out his cell phone and called Paris.

                "Hello?"

                "Jess?  It's Tristan.  Is Paris home?"

                "Sure, man.  Hang on a minute."

                A few seconds elapsed, and then he heard, "Hey Tristan.  What's up?"

                "Your tip paid off—I now have a place to live for the foreseeable future."

                "That's great!  When do you move in?"

                "Tomorrow.  I'm taking Jenny out to lunch today, kind of as a thank-you."

                "Jenny?"

                "The girl who lives in the apartment."

                Paris chuckled.  "You don't waste any time, do you?"

                "Come on, it's not like that.  Besides, she's leaving for Italy tomorrow."

                "Whatever you say, Tristan."

                "Anyway…  Could you give me Rory's home number?  I want to give her a call, let her know we can get started on Monday."

                "Sure.  It's 555-1088.  Same area code as mine."

                "Thanks.  Look, I have to go, but I'll see you on Monday."

                "Sure thing.  Let me know if you need any help getting settled."

                "Will do.  Bye, Paris."

                "Bye."

                Just as he was hanging up, Jenny emerged from the bedroom.  It was all he could do not to chuckle at her complete transformation.  Gone were the cutoff jeans, faded t-shirt, messy ponytail, and bare face.  In their place were a swirling black mini-skirt, red halter top, neatly combed hair, and delicately hued make-up.  Some women just never seemed to learn the art of subtlety.

                "Ready to go?" she asked cheerily.

                "Definitely.  Any place in particular you'd like to go?"

                Chattering animatedly, she led him out of the apartment.  Upon seeing the BMW, she became even more excited.  Trailing behind her, Tristan rolled his eyes and wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into.

*              *              *

Directing Ryan where to park, Rory eagerly jumped out of the car, camera in hand.  Ryan followed at a slightly slower pace.

                As Rory bounded towards the sloping river banks, Ryan called after her, "Lorelai, where exactly are we?"

                She spun around, a wide grin on her face.  "Welcome to West Cornwall, Connecticut, on the banks of the Housatonic River!"

                "That's great.  When exactly are we eating?"

                "Patience!  This is only our third bridge!"

                "But I'm hungry!" he whined.

                "Okay, now you're starting to sound like my mother, and, quite frankly, that frightens me.  Tell you what—you get the picnic all set up while I take my pictures."

                "Fair enough."

                The next twenty minutes passed quickly.  Ryan and the picnic had been waiting on Rory for the past ten, and he was beginning to wonder where she had disappeared to for so long.  Taking a quick glance around to ensure that no one was going to usurp their lunch, Ryan cautiously made his way down closer to the river, where the tumbling rapids made a thunderous echo.  His heart clenched in fear when he spied Rory perched precariously on a boulder, sighting something through that dratted camera of hers.  Not wanting to startle her and send her falling into the violent water, he waited until she stood up and turned in his direction.

                "Almost done?" he called to her.

                She looked up, slightly surprised.  "Geez, I didn't even hear you.  Where'd you come from?"

                "Our picnic," he responded pointedly.

                "Oh, right.  I'll be there in a few minutes.  I just want to finish off this roll."

                "Don't you think you have enough pictures?  I mean, if you've seen one covered bridge, you've pretty much seen them all, right?"

                She stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment.  "Of course not!  Each one has a different character, a different history!  Besides, isn't it beautiful?"

                He shrugged.  "I guess.  I'm just partial to the New York City skyline lit up at night."

                She wrinkled her nose in distaste.  "Really?  I mean, I suppose that's an impressive sight, but after growing up in Stars Hollow, I'll never truly be a city girl."

                "Well, growing up in Chicago, I'll never be a country boy."

                A look of sadness briefly flitted across her features, but she quickly shook it off.  "How about we agree to disagree?"

                "Whatever."

                "Look, why don't you go back and start eating?  I'll be there soon."

                "Are you sure?"

                "Positive."  When he turned and began to walk away, Rory refocused her attention on the view through her camera lens.  It just didn't seem as beautiful as it had a few minutes earlier.  A frisson of dissatisfaction ran through her.

                After all, wasn't her Prince Charming supposed to want to build her a castle in the country?"

*              *              *

                Dr. Lane Kim was just finishing up her rounds when the pager on her hip began to buzz insistently.  Glancing quickly at the number, she headed out through the ambulance bay and pulled out her cell phone.

                The person on the other end picked up on the third rang.  "Hello?"

                "You rang?" responded Lane.

                "I said I would, didn't I?"

                "Right.  What's the good word?"

                "Part 1 of the plan went off without a hitch.  So far, neither one has a clue."

                "Excellent."

                "Are you going to be able to make it to Stars Hollow for the kick-off of part 2?"

                "I wouldn't miss it."

                "Great.  I'll see you then."

                "Sounds good.  Bye, Paris."

                "Bye, Lane."

*              *              *

                Lorelai Danes was giving Emma a bath while Luke attempted to get Charlotte to eat.  The phone rang, and she yelled, "Billy, can you find the phone?"  The kid had some kind of radar when it came to the cordless…

                "Hello?" she heard his sweet childish voice say.

                "Yep.  Okay."  The sound of little feet approaching reached Lorelai's ears, and Billy soon appeared in the bathroom doorway, holding out the phone.

                "It's Cousin Paris," he announced.

                Nodding, she accepted the phone with one wet, soapy hand, and hoped she didn't electrocute herself.  "Hello?"

                "Hi Lorelai.  How are you?"

                "Currently at war with Johnson & Johnson, but otherwise okay."

                "Oh.  Should I call back later?"

                "Nah.  Now's as good a time as any."

                "Okay.  Well, I was wondering if you would mind having two extra people at dinner next Saturday."

                "Not at all.  Anyone I know?"

                "One is Lane, and the other…" Paris quickly explained the situation—or at least most of it—and Lorelai's grin quickly became wider and wider.

                "Sounds great, Paris.  I think you and I might just be kindred spirits after all."

                "I'm glad to hear you say that, Lorelai.  I'll see you next weekend."

                "Looking forward to it."

_To be continued…_


	15. Oh, that’s rich coming from an emotional...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: Okay, I really don't know anything about brainstorming sessions in the business world, because mostly I just do what my boss tells me to do.  But, I took some of the stuff I learned in college—like the fact that there are no bad ideas when you brainstorm—and went a little nuts.  I wanted the whole thing to be a creative, tactile experience.  I hope you enjoy it.  Also, there's a lot of R/T interaction in this section, although probably not of the type you're hoping for.  This is turning into something of an epic saga, so the payoff may be a long time coming, but rest assured that it will come.  Then again, so will the Apocalypse…

This chapter's title quote is from _Someone Like You, which is worth viewing several times for the sheer joy of seeing Hugh Jackman in boxer-briefs._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Fifteen: Oh, that's rich coming from an emotional moron who is working his way through Manhattan, using women like ATM machines…

                Heaving a tired sigh, Rory entered her apartment on Saturday night.  The rest of her day with Ryan wouldn't exactly qualify as a complete disaster, but it certainly hadn't turned out the way she had hoped.  Conversation during their picnic lunch had been undeniably strained.  Rory had tried to rationalize it, telling herself that he was probably just one of those people who got cranky when they didn't eat at regular intervals.  That theory didn't hold water, though, when his mood failed to improve as the day progressed.  To top it off, he decided to return to New York, rather than stay the night as he had originally planned.

                Depositing the picnic basket in her tiny kitchen, Rory then meandered into the living room to check her messages.  There was only one.

                "Rory, it's Tristan.  I finally have a place to call home for the next few months, so I'd like to get started on the project Monday.  Give me a call, and let me know if you have a free day for a brainstorming session."  
                After deleting the message, Rory decided to wait until tomorrow to return the call.  She was too tired to deal with Tristan tonight.  No sooner had the thought gone through her head when the phone rang.

                "Hello?"

                "Lorelai?  It's Ryan."

                "Oh, hi," she responded, somewhat stiffly.

                "Look, I just wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry for acting like such a jerk today.  It was completely uncalled for, and it had nothing to do with you."

                Immediately, she became concerned.  "Is everything okay?"

                "I got a call this morning from my mom back in Illinois.  She told me my grandfather is in the hospital.  They're still not sure what's wrong."

                "Oh, Ryan, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

                "You were so excited about today—I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

                Her voice was soft, but mildly reproachful.  "That's part of what being in a relationship is about, you know—supporting each other through the difficult times."

                He sighed.  "I know, and I should have said something sooner.  I really am sorry, Lorelai."

                "It's alright.  Just don't let it happen again, buster!"

                He chuckled quietly.  "I won't.  I should go, though—I'm almost to the interstate."

                "Drive carefully.  Will you call me when you get home?"

                "Sure.  I miss you already."

                "You could always turn around and come back, you know."

                "Normally I would, but I really wouldn't be much fun the rest of the weekend."

                "Okay.  Let me know if you need anything."

                "I will, thanks.  Goodnight, Lorelai."

                "Goodnight, Ryan."

*              *              *

                Monday morning came all too quickly for Rory's liking.  She had spoken to Tristan on Sunday afternoon, and was now completely terrified at the prospect of what he described as a "typical brainstorming session."

                She had spent the remainder of the day talking on the phone with her mother and Lane, and cleaning her apartment from top to bottom—a sure sign that she was agitated about something.  Only problem was, she couldn't put a finger on what was bothering her.

                The nagging anxiety had kept her awake half the night.  Well, that and the new neighbor who was moving in none too quietly.  She hadn't actually met the guy yet, but Jenny couldn't seem to stop gushing about his considerable physical attributes when Rory ran into her in the hall Sunday morning.

                It was no surprise, then, that her eyelids were at half-mast when she stumbled into the office on Monday.  Rory's lethargy instantly evaporated the moment she stepped off the elevator, however.  The seductive aroma of freshly-brewed coffee immediately assaulted her nostrils, and she eagerly followed the scent.

                Her eyes widened even further when she stepped into the conference room.  Its interior had been completely transformed from its normal appearance.  The windows had been covered with heavy, opaque white paper.  Several of the sheets already had headings written on them in black permanent marker.  The conference room table was covered with various colorful toys—Play-Doh, crayons, markers, LEGOs, wooden blocks, finger paints, and more.

                These items weren't what captured and held Rory's attention, though.  Not, what had her so captivated was the sight of Tristan clad in threadbare jean shorts, a faded New England Patriots jersey with "Brady" on the back, and a battered blue and red Chicago Cubs baseball cap.

                After staring open-mouthed for a good thirty seconds, she could no longer contain herself, and burst out laughing.  Startled, Tristan looked up from the Rubik's cube he had been playing with.

                "Morning, Rory.  What's so funny?"

                She choked down a loud guffaw.  "Doesn't your new apartment have any mirrors?"

                Glancing down at his outfit, Tristan grinned.  "What, not a fan of my new look?  I told you to dress comfortably, and I did the same."

                "When you said 'comfortably,' I didn't realize you meant 'rejects from the Salvation Army.'"

                He feigned a hurt expression.  "I'll have you know that all these clothes came from my own closet."

                "Impressive," Rory giggled.  "Exactly how long have they been _in your closet?"_

                "A while…I only bring them out for special occasions."

                "I feel so privileged," she commented dryly.

                Tristan looked her up and down appraisingly.  "You, on the other hand, have a rather different definition of comfortable."

                "What's wrong with my outfit?" she asked defensively.

                "You're wearing a dress, Rory."

                "So?"

                "So, I just didn't think you would pick a dress as being your most comfortable item of clothing."

                "Men!"  Her exasperation was apparent.  "It's a sundress, Tristan.  A simple, cotton sundress, with no itchy seams, no tight top, no restrictive waist.  It is _easily the most comfortable thing I own."_

                He raised his eyebrows suggestively.  "In this quest for ultimate comfort, did you also decide to forego underwear?"

                She flushed scarlet.  "You are impossible!"

                "I was joking, Rory," he said gently.

                She headed for the coffeepot in frustration.  "I'm sorry.  It was a difficult weekend."

                "Trouble in paradise?"

                "No, not exactly.  Ryan and I are doing fine; I just have this nagging feeling that everything could blow up in my face at any moment."

                "Isn't that usually the way life works?"

                "Yeah.  That doesn't mean I like it."

                "No one does."

                "I guess.  Do you want to get started?"

                "Definitely."  Crossing the room, he closed and locked the door, and then took a seat at the table.

                Rory took a sip of her coffee, and eyed the door warily.  "Okay, now you're starting to make me nervous.  Am I not allowed to leave?"

                "I'm not trying to keep you in; I'm trying to keep everyone else out.  This method works best without distractions."

                She looked at him in disbelief.  "You don't want distractions, but you filled the room with toys?"

                "Ah, but these are all part of the creative process.  Today, anything goes.  It's all about ideas.  There are no bad ideas; there are only ideas.  The toys also come in handy when you get the urge to throw things at me."

                Laughing, Rory replied, "Good to know.  What's the paper on the windows for?"

                "Dual purpose.  One, to keep out the distraction of a beautiful summer day.  Two, I like to use it for free association."

                "How did you come up with all this?"

                "Trial and error, primarily.  That and an urge to write on the walls left over from my childhood."

                "Sounds like fun.  Where do we start?"

                "Pick a word, any word.  We'll go from there."  He tossed her a marker.  "Write it on the wall."

                Hesitating only slightly, she uncapped the marker, approached the wall, and wrote clearly and deliberately, "Coffee."

                He grinned.  "Predictable, but we can work with it."

                "I'm so glad you approve."

*              *              *

                Four hours later, Paris stood outside the conference room, holding two pizza boxes and shaking her head.  The sound of uproarious laughter could be heard from behind the closed door, and she really didn't want to know what was going on in there.  Resolutely, she knocked firmly on the door.

                When there was no response, Paris knocked again, harder this time.  The laughter quieted, and after a brief pause, Rory opened the door, still giggling softly.

                "Hi, Paris!  Ooh, is that our lunch?"  Taking the pizzas, she mumbled "Thanks," and quickly shut the door, leaving Paris staring dumbfounded and empty-handed.

                Setting the food on the table, Rory paused a moment to take in the havoc they had wreaked on the room.  The paper on the walls was nearly covered with countless words; some circled, some crossed out, some connected by solid or dashed lines.  There were rough sketches as well, geometric doodling, caricatures, even stick figures.

                There were Play-Doh sculptures littering the table, along with towering LEGO structures sporting architecture that was best described as "whimsical."

                "Wow, we really trashed this place," she remarked.

                "Yeah, isn't it great?" Tristan replied with unbridled glee.

                Opening one of the pizza boxes, Rory inhaled the delectable aroma before speaking again.  "Do any of your clients ever object to this somewhat, shall we say, chaotic method of idea generation?"

                Tristan grabbed a steaming, cheesy slice and shrugged.  "I can usually tell from the initial meetings with our clients whether or not they're open to this kind of thing.  For instance, if Paris was heading up this project, I doubt I would have done anything this extreme."

                Raising her eyebrows, Rory asked, "What made you think I'd be up for it?"

                "For one thing, the preponderance of toys in your office.  You must have them in there for a reason.  Besides, I've met your mother, albeit briefly.  I figured you had inherited some of her, um, colorful personality quirks."

                Rory chuckled.  "That's a rather diplomatic way to phrase it.  You're right, though—this really appeals to me.  How does Ryan feel about it?"

                "RJ prefers to walk a more straight-and-narrow path.  He's a lot like Paris in that respect.  I usually bring him along to what I call the 'boring brainstorming sessions,' to try and keep me in check."

                "How come you call him RJ?"

                "That's what he introduced himself as to me.  They're his first and middle initials."

                "What does the 'J' stand for?"

                "Oh no—that's for him to tell you.  I value my life."

                Rory pouted.  "You're no fun."

                "Yep, that's me.  Tristan DuGrey, fun-killer."

                "Ever the witty one, aren't you?"

                "I try.  So how come RJ calls you Lorelai?"

                "He just likes the name, I think."

                "And that doesn't bother you?"

                "Not really.  It _is my name, after all."_

                "True.  I guess you'll just always be Rory to me."

                She snorted indelicately.  "Funny, since you hardly ever called me that."

                "I only called you Mary to antagonize you.  In my mind, you were always Rory."

                "Do I even want to know what I was doing inside your head?"

                "Probably not.  Like I told you before, I value my life."

                "If you truly valued your life, you wouldn't have even told me that much."

                "Oh, I don't know about that."

                "Really?  How come?"

                He leaned across the table until their faces were only inches apart, purportedly to grab another slice of pizza.  "Because by telling you that much, it makes you think about me thinking about you in compromising positions."

                Rory turned beet red and nearly choked on the bite of pizza in her mouth.  "Are you _kidding me?"_

                Tristan burst out laughing and sank back into his chair.  "You are so unbelievably predictable, Gilmore!  That is the exact reaction you would have had when we were sixteen!"

                She glared at him.  "You suck!"

                "Very eloquent, Rory."

                She took a ferocious bite of pizza, and then said with her mouth fill, "You still suck."

                "Aw, but isn't that why you love me?"

                "You're delusional, DuGrey."

                "Yeah, but the voices in my head make for such good company."

                She tried to maintain her stern expression, but eventually she couldn't hold in her laughter any longer.  "You take great pleasure from baiting me, don't you?"

                "Sure.  But it would be even more fun if it wasn't so easy."

                She threw a green lump of clay in his direction, missing completely, and the two of them dissolved into laughter.  Tristan scooped up one of their more pathetic sculptures and whipped it at her, and soon there was a veritable tornado of clay flying through the room.  Their shrieks and laughter continued to escalate in volume, and neither of them noticed when the conference room door opened and Paris stepped inside.

                "What the hell is going on in here?" she shouted.

                Tentatively, Rory crawled out of her defensive position behind the credenza, while Tristan poked his head above an overturned chair.  "Oh, hi, Paris," he said, chuckling uncomfortably.

                "I repeat, what the hell is going on in here?"

                Pulling herself to her feet, Rory replied, "Um, we're expressing our creative differences?"

                "You know, I had my reservations about the two of you working together…"

                Tristan stood up quickly.  "Okay, calm down.  Rory and I have actually gotten a lot done today.  We're not fighting; we're just blowing off some steam.  Everything's fine."

                Paris' expression softened.  "Are you sure?  You guys just have such a checkered past…"

                "But that's the past," Rory said softly.  "I promise—we'll make you proud with this project."

                The other woman sighed.  "Okay.  I'm just still not very good at this whole delegating authority/trusting in others thing."

                "Your kid is going to be _so neurotic," Tristan laughed._

                "Like _your offspring will be perfectly adjusted?" she shot back._

                "Oops, I forgot—never mess with a hormonal pregnant woman."

                Scowling, Paris stomped out of the room.

                Rory gazed admiringly at him.  "You said that just to get rid of her, didn't you?"

                "Tactical strategy I learned in North Carolina."

                "Nicely done."

                "Thank you.  But enough chit-chat—we have work to do!"

_To be continued…_


	16. What's your favorite scary movie?

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually

Spoilers:  May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including _Lost and Found_.

Rating: R

Summary:  Future fic.  Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: All characters from the television show _Gilmore Girls_ were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: I apologize for the long delay.  Not having fanfiction.net up kind of stifled my motivation.  This chapter's title quote is from _Scream. _

Unholy Alliance 

**By Grace**

Part Sixteen: What's your favorite scary movie?

                Kicking back in her chair, Rory moaned, "I surrender."

                Tristan grinned at her from across the table.  "What's wrong Mary?  Is the brainstorming wearing you out?"

                "I'm not even sure I have a brain anymore.  I think it might have melted," she whined.

                "Aww, poor baby.  I suppose we've done enough for one day.  Why don't you go home, get some rest, and we'll start up again tomorrow?"

                "You," she said with a point of her finger, "are a slave driver."

                He flashed a wicked smirk her direction.  "I've never had any complaints before."

                "How do you manage to make every little thing sound sexual?"

                "Years of practice."

                She sighed.  "I don't know why I bother.  Now come on—we'd better clean this place up, or Paris will have a stroke."

                "And you call _me a slave driver?"_

                She only smiled and began to take the paper off the walls.  When she uncovered the windows, Rory let out a gasp of dismay.

                "What's wrong?" Tristan asked immediately.

                "Oh, nothing, really.  I guess I'll just have to take the bus home today.  It's pouring out."

                His eyebrows went up in surprise.  "I didn't know it was supposed to rain today."

                "Me, either.  It must be some kind of freak storm or something."

                "Well, don't worry about taking the bus home.  I can give you a ride."

                "Oh, that's okay.  I don't want you to go out of your way."

                "Rory, it's no problem, really."

                "If you're sure…"

                "I'm positive.  Now let's finish up before the weather gets any worse."

                They worked diligently and in silence for several minutes, and were cleaning up the last vestiges of Play-Doh when Paris entered the room.

                "Good, you two are almost done.  They're predicting severe thunderstorms until about midnight."

                "We'll be out of here in a couple minutes," Rory responded.  "We didn't even realize it was raining until a little while ago."

                "Do you need a ride home?"

                "No, Tristan said he would take me."

                Paris hid a smile.  "Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow."

                The three of them quickly said their good-byes, and ten minutes later, Rory and Tristan were getting into his BMW.

                "Nice car," she commented.

                "It's a rental."

                "You know, normal people rent things like Dodge Neons and Pontiac Grand Ams."

                "When has anyone ever accused me of being normal?"

                "Point taken."

                They kept up a stream of light chatter as Rory directed him through the streets of Hartford.  With each successive turn, a sinking feeling began to grow in the pit of Tristan's stomach.  His suspicions were confirmed when they reached the final street and Rory indicated the very building in which he himself had recently taken up residence.

                Pulling the car up to the curb and shutting off the engine, he mumbled, "I'm going to kill her."

                Cocking her head to one side, Rory asked, "What was that?"

                "Nothing.  Well, here we are—home sweet home."

                "Thanks for the ride, Tristan.  Now go on—you really shouldn't be driving in this weather."

                "Don't worry—I live nearby."

                "Really?  Where?"

                "Actually…I live here."

                Rory paled.  "What do you mean, you live here?"

                "Here, as in your building.  Apartment B."

                Understanding began to dawn for Rory.  "You're Jenny's sub-letter?"

                "The one and only."

                "How did you find out about the apartment?"

                "Paris told me about it," he said softly.

                "I'm sorry.  What did you say?"

                "Paris told me," he repeated, louder this time.  "I swear, Rory, I didn't know this was your building until just now.  If you want, I can find someplace else to live…"

                Reaching across the shifter console, Rory placed her hand atop his.  "Tristan, it's okay, really.  So we're neighbors—big deal.  I don't know why Paris turned it into a cloak-and-dagger routine, but honestly, I don't mind."

                "Really?" He couldn't quite keep the doubt from creeping into his voice.

                "Really.  Besides, now we can carpool to work."

                "Oh, I see.  You're just using me for my automobile."  The sparkle in his eyes let Rory know he was teasing.

                "Oh, man, you figured me out!" she exclaimed.  "I confess, I get _such a charge out of German cars with leather interiors."_

                Tristan chuckled at that, and for once refrained from making an innuendo-laden comment.  Instead, he said, "It looks like the rain is letting up a little.  We should probably get in the building while the getting is good."

                Nodding in agreement, Rory gathered up her purse and attaché case, and the two of them made a mad dash for shelter.

*              *              *

                The first thing Rory did when she entered her apartment was start peeling off her wet clothes.  Taking a nice, hot shower and then curling up with a good book sounded immensely appealing.

                Twenty minutes later, she was comfortably ensconced in her fluffy terry-cloth bathrobe, scanning her bookshelves for the perfect rainy-night read.  Just as she settled on _Emma, there was a blinding flash of lightning, immediately followed by a crack of thunder that shook the building, and then the power went out.  Calming down from the initial shock, Rory cautiously made her way into the kitchen, and grabbed a flashlight from the top of the refrigerator.  Training the beam on the interior of her junk drawer, she rummaged around for a few minutes and finally came up with a book of matches._

                Making her way through the apartment, she lit every candle she could find.  She wasn't _afraid of the dark, exactly; she simply preferred the light.  After all, it was practically impossible to read in the dark._

                Nevertheless, when another violent peal of thunder rattled the windowpanes, Rory sincerely regretted every horror and slasher flick she had ever allowed her mother to talk into watching.  It was always during storms like these that the psychotic serial killer came to the unsuspecting, innocent young girl's home…

                At that moment, there was a loud knock on the door, and Rory screamed…forgetting for a moment that serial killers generally don't knock.

                "Rory!" Tristan's frantic voice echoed through the door.  "Are you okay?  It's Tristan.  Let me in, will you?"

                Her heart still pounding, Rory hurried over to the door, flung it open, grabbed Tristan by the front of his shirt, and hauled him inside.

                He put his hands on her shoulders, and could feel her trembling.  "What's wrong?  What happened?"

                Her laugh was shaky.  "Nothing.  It's stupid, really.  Basically, I psyched myself into believing I was Neve Campbell in _Scream."_

                He removed his right hand from her arm and swiped it across his face.  "Jesus, Mary, you scared the crap out of me!  I thought you were hurt, or in trouble…" Trailing off, he pulled Rory tightly to him, close enough that she could hear the pounding of his heart.

                The intimacy of the moment startled her, and it took her a few seconds before she pulled away.  Glancing up, she was even more surprised to see a look of genuine tenderness gracing his handsome features.

                "Hey, I'm fine," she said quietly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.  "Anyway, what were you doing pounding on my door in the middle of a storm?"

                His expression turned sheepish.  "Um, I was hoping I could borrow some matches or something.  I haven't lived in the apartment long enough to know where everything is yet."

                "Oh, sure!  But, you know, if you'd rather, you could hang out here until the power comes back.  Maybe order Chinese or something…"

                Even in the darkness, she could see him smirking at her.  "Don't want to be by yourself in the dark, huh?  Need big, strong Tristan to protect you?"

                She heard the laughter in his voice clearly, and reached out to smack him.  "Do you even have any _concept of how to be gracious?"_

                "Well…no, not really."

                Rory groaned in exasperation.  "Ungracious, but honest.  I guess I can live with that."

                "How comforting.  Oh, and I'd love to stick around for Chinese food."

                "You would?  Okay."  She crossed into the kitchen and began rifling through a stack of papers on the counter.  "I know I have a take-out menu around here somewhere…" After going through the pile twice, she triumphantly held up a rather worn piece of paper.  "A-ha!"  She handed him the menu.  "Here, take a look.  I already know what I want."

                Tristan quickly perused to selections.  "General Tso's chicken sounds okay."

                Nodding, Rory picked up the kitchen phone.  Dialing quickly, she put it to her ear, only to discover there was no dial tone.  "Um, we have a minor technical difficulty.  The line is dead."

                "Why don't you try your cell phone?"

                "Good idea." She had tossed her purse on the kitchen table when she got home from work, and now she pulled her cell phone from it.  After a moment, she announced, "I can't get a signal.  The tower must be down."

                Tristan pulled a small phone out of his pocket.  "Here, I'll see if mine works."  All too soon, he shook his head.  "Apparently the storm knocked out pretty much everything."

                Rory groaned.  "Wonderful.  Man, I really had a taste for shrimp-fried rice, too.  Now what do we do?"

                "Oh, I'm sure we can scrounge up something.  What do you have in your fridge?"

                She looked away from him, embarrassed.  "Not much.  I don't cook very often, and I really need to go to the grocery store."

                He smiled indulgently.  "Then I guess it's time to get creative."

                She eyed him skeptically.  "_You can cook?"_

                "Sure.  It's a great way to impress women, you know."

                "Gee, I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

                He chuckled softly.  "Now, let's see what we can dig up?"  He opened a cabinet door, discovered dishes, and moved on to the next one.

                "Do you mind?" she protested.

                "No.  Do you want to eat?"

                "Yes," she grudgingly admitted.

                "Then help me rummage!"

                Ten minutes later, they had come up with half a box of Pop Tarts, one hot dog of indiscriminate age, a frozen loaf of bread, and two cans of Dr. Pepper.

                "You weren't kidding when you said you didn't have much!  Good Lord, what do you eat?"

                Rory sighed.  "Take-out.  Lots and lots of take-out."

                He grabbed her hand.  "Come on."

                "Where are we going?"

                "My apartment, where actual food lives."

                "Tristan, I don't think that's a good idea…"

                He turned to face her, inadvertently drawing her closer.  "We can either stay here and go hungry, or go to my place and eat.  How is that not a good idea?"

                "For one thing, I'm not dressed."  Even in the candle-lit dimness, Tristan could see her cheeks suffuse with color.

                Slowly, he scanned her from head to toe, his gaze speculative.  "I must be losing my touch, Mary.  I didn't even notice," he murmured.

                Nervously, she pulled free the hand she had only just realized was still clasped in his.  Tugging her bathrobe more tightly closed around her neck, Rory stammered, "Why don't you, um, head over to the apartment, and I'll, uh, meet you there?"

                "Okay.  Where are the matches?"

                "Kitchen table," she called back over her shoulder as she headed for the bedroom.

                Once the door was securely shut behind her, Rory slumped against it, exhaling loudly.  That had been…weird.  She was used to Tristan being overtly flirtatious, to having conversations laden with sexual innuendo.  By this point in time, she was practically immune to it.  But the look on his face just now, when he stared at her so intently…she had felt a slow, lazy heat spread through her body.  If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn she and Tristan had just shared a moment…a moment when attraction sparked and flared, and had it been another moment on another day, it might have become more than just a moment.

                With a determined shake of her head, Rory yanked open the closet and a dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of shorts and a tank top.  On second thought, perhaps a T-shirt would be better…

*              *              *

                Across the hall, Tristan let himself into his apartment and slumped against the wall.  What the hell had just happened over there?  The air between himself and Rory had practically crackled with electricity.  It had to be the lightning flashing almost continuously outside.  After all—Rory was immune to his charms.  Wasn't she?  He shook his head.  Of course she was—she had been for years.

                Still, that didn't change the fact that he was anything _but immune to __her charms.  Somehow, he had to figure out how to survive an evening spent cooking her a candlelit dinner.  Okay, it was power-outage-induced candlelit, but really, candlelight was candlelight._

                Groaning, he shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen.  With the way his luck was going tonight, he'd probably be so distracted while he cooked diner that he would set the kitchen on fire, burn down the building, and end up having to spend the night with her in the only available hotel room in the entire city, which would, of course, only have one bed.

                Tristan smirked.  On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be so bad…


	17. Nobody thinks this will work, do they? ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 3

Summary:  Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted her were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's quote is from the ever-fabulous _Say Anything._

Unholy Alliance 

**By Grace**

Part Seventeen: Nobody thinks it will work, do they?  No.  You just described every great success story.

                Rory took a deep breath, and prepared to knock on Tristan's door.  _You're being ridiculous, she silently berated herself.  __So you had one weird moment.  It was probably just some bizarre electrochemical reaction brought on by the lightning.  Get over it and move on.  Resolutely, she rapped sharply on the door._

                Tristan opened the door almost immediately, and Rory burst out laughing when she caught sight of him.  There was a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, a smear of what her nose told her was soy sauce on his cheek, and there appeared to be a few grains of rice in his messy blonde hair.

                "What?" he asked defensively.

                She stifled another giggle.  "If this is what you look like when you cook, I'm officially frightened."

                "_You try cooking by the light of six votive candles, and we'll see how you look."_

                "Tristan, I can barely cook in broad daylight.  That's why we're here, remember?"

                "Exactly—so no more comments from the peanut gallery!"

                They just stood there in the doorway grinning at each other for a minute, and finally Rory asked, "So, are you going to let me in?"

                "Oh, right."  He stepped aside, and ushered her into the apartment with a grand flourish.

                "So what culinary delights are you regaling me with this evening?"

                "Sometimes, Mary, it's blindingly obvious that you're a journalist."

                "I'm really not sure whether I should take that as an insult or a compliment."

                "How about you take it whatever way will keep you from throwing the Sterno at my head?"

                "Sterno?"

                "We both conveniently forgot that our stoves, like everything, are electric.  So, I had to get creative and use a wok, a fondue pot base, and Sterno to whip up some stir-fry."

                "Wouldn't it have been easier to just make fondue?"

                He stared at her blankly for a moment.  "Well…yeah.  But I made the stir-fry before I realized I had no stove."

                "Typical male," Rory sighed.  "Act and then think."

                He folded his arms across his chest and smirked.  "Typical woman.  Criticizing the way a man does a job that she herself cannot do."

                "You know, if I wasn't so hungry, I'd continue this argument."

                "So you concede defeat?"

                "Never.  But I'll agree to a temporary cease-fire."

                "That's good enough for me.  Now, I'd better get back to the wok before the Sterno explodes or something."

                Rory giggled again.  "Lead on, O Master Chef."

                "Watch it, Mary," he growled, the low rumble of his voice sending an unexpected shiver down Rory's spine.

                Slightly flustered, she cleared her throat.  "Look, about what happened back at my apartment…"

                He turned to face her, his gaze level, his eyes shuttered.  "Nothing happened, Rory," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

                He was giving her an out, and she knew it.  It would be all too easy to ignore that spark—the spark that seemed to plague them every time she and Tristan spent more than ten minutes together.  It was something she had ignored and suppressed as long as she had known him; something she still wasn't truly ready to face.

                Rory opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she understood, to let it slip quietly into the past, just another awkward moment they didn't speak of, but also didn't forget.  Instead, she heard herself saying, "But something could have."

                Tristan froze, the wooden spoon he had been stirring their meal with slipping from his fingers.  "Don't start a journey you have no intention of completing."

                She reached out and clasped his forearm.  "I'm not," she whispered.

                He spun around, wrenching his arm from her grasp.  "_Nothing happened," he repeated harshly.  "Nothing __can happen, or have you forgotten that you're dating my friend and business partner?"_

                Rory's eyes snapped with anger.  "I haven't forgotten anything!  But I'm sick and tired of this…whatever this is between us!  Maybe it's chemistry, maybe it's attraction, I don't know!  But we can't just keep ignoring it, hoping it will go away!  We need to deal with it and move on."

                "So this is what you call completing the journey?" he asked bitterly.

                "What exactly did you have in mind?"

                He advanced on her, playing on the danger of their physical proximity.  "What I have in mind isn't suitable for discussion in mixed company.  What I have in mind involves betraying someone I care about, throwing caution to the wind, and doing the one thing I have wanted to do since we were sixteen years old."

                Rory's eyes had gone as wide as saucers.  "Tristan…"

                He cut her off with a gentle finger pressed to her lips.  "What I want to do more than anything else at this moment is kiss you.  But I won't, because I respect RJ too much, I respect you too much, and for once in my life, I respect myself."

                Tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks as she whispered, "And what would you do if I kissed you?"

                "I wouldn't stop you."

                Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her lips drifted towards his.  Just before they touched, the shrill beep of the smoke detector rang out in the apartment.

                Springing apart, Rory stared down at her feet while Tristan hurried to take care of their now-smoldering dinner.  When he was finished, he faced her once again, his expression anguished.

                "Rory, look at me," he pleaded.

                When she met his gaze, he winced at the pain in her eyes.  "Tristan, I'm so sorry…" she began.

                "Don't.  Please.  This shouldn't have happened.  We both knew that.  It isn't the right time.  Maybe there won't ever be a right time for us.  But if I ever do get to kiss you again, I don't want it to be when you're dating someone else, and I don't want it to be when you can try to chalk it up to bad lighting, lack of food, or bizarre weather phenomena."

                She managed a watery smile.  "Why are you being so nice about this?"

                Tristan took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, sending rice grains careening into the kitchen floor.  "I don't know.  Maybe because we've wasted too many years as it is, and I don't particularly feel like jeopardizing our friendship just because I'm a moron."

                "You're not a moron!  And…you still want to be friends?"

                "Of course."

                "Good.  So do I."  She reached out and took his hand, and as he gently squeezed her fingers, the lights flickered on.

*              *              *

                Tristan and Rory spent the next few days pretending that everything was normal between them, and eventually, Rory began to actually believe it.  Obviously, the fact that she had even contemplated kissing Tristan could only be attributed to the lightning storm short-circuiting her brain.  After all, this was Tristan.  Sure, he was a good-looking guy, and they did have a rather compelling history, but that didn't change the fact that he was Tristan, she was Rory, and never the twain shall meet.

                Besides, how could she forget Ryan?  After the power was restored on Monday night, and dinner had been reduced to a smoldering ruin, she and Tristan had decided it would be best to go their separate ways.  Rory had made a beeline for her apartment and immediately called Ryan.

                "Hello?"

                "Ryan?"

                "Lorelai!  It's so great to hear from you.  How did the brainstorming go?"

                Rory let out a nervous chuckle.  "Okay, I guess.  It really wasn't what I was expecting."

                "It never is," he chuckled.  "Tristan's quite a piece of work.  I keep telling him he's going to scare away the clients, but he never listens."

                "Well, as unusual as the technique is, it seems to work."

                "I suppose.  So are you just getting home from work?"

                "Oh, no!  We just a really wicked thunderstorm, and everything was knocked out until a few minutes ago."

                They had continued on in a similar vein, making small talk and chatting idly, for the next forty-five minutes.  Just as they were about to hang up, Rory said, "Hey, I'm going home this weekend with Paris and Jess.  They're going to tell mom and Luke about the baby.  Would you like to come?"

                Ryan's voice was tinged with regret.  "I'd love to, but I can't.  I'm flying back to Chicago to visit my grandfather."

                "How is he doing?  Do they know what's wrong yet?"

                He sighed.  "They think it might be cancer.  They're doing a biopsy this Friday.  That's why I'm going home."

                "Oh, Ryan, I'm so sorry," she murmured.  "I wish I could be there with you."

                "Me, too.  But you've got family obligations of your own."

                "Yeah.  Well, I better go.  Call me if you need anything, okay?"

                "I will, thanks.  I miss you."

                "Me too.  We'll get together soon, okay?"

                "Definitely."

                When they finally hung up, Rory had a smile on her face and a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach…

*              *              *

                By Wednesday afternoon, Rory and Tristan felt they had exhausted all the possibilities for the website.

                "I think that's a wrap," Tristan commented, pushing back from the conference room table.  "I'll take this back to New York, go over it with RJ, and I'll be back with a proposal next week."

                "Sounds like a plan.  Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to get some actual writing done!"

                "Fair enough.  I'll get things cleaned up in here, say good-bye to Paris, and be on my merry way."

                "It's going to be awfully quiet around the office for the next few days without you here."

                "Gonna miss me, Mary?"

                Rory grinned and threw a wadded-up piece of paper at his head.  "Here I was actually deluded enough to believe we were making progress."

                "We are.  I just can't have you resting on your laurels, now can I?"

                "Maybe we _are making progress—your vocabulary seems to have improved."_

                "Cute."

                "I thought so."  Rory stood up and gathered her things.  "Have a safe trip, and I'll see you next week."

                "Have a good weekend, Rory."

                "Thanks, you too."

                No sooner had she left the room than Paris slipped inside.

                "Getting ready to go?" she asked.

                "Oh, hey, Paris.  Yeah, Rory and I came up with quite a few great ideas, and I just need to go back to the city for a few days to hammer out a proposal."

                "Before you go, there's something I want to talk to you about."

                "That sounds ominous."

                Paris flashed her a small smile.  "I promise, it's good."

                Tristan made an expansive gesture.  "Please, have a seat."

                In typical Paris fashion, she crossed her arms, cocked an eyebrow, and commented dryly, "Gee, thanks, seeing as I paid for this table."

                "Details, details," he shrugged.

                Taking a seat, Paris clasped her hands on the table in front of her.  "I'm sure you've heard that Jess and I are going to Stars Hollow this weekend.  We're going to tell Luke and Lorelai about the baby."

                He nodded.  "I think Rory mentioned something like that, yeah."

                "Well, it's kind of a special occasion, and I was really hoping that you could be there."

                Tristan's cheeks flushed, and his expression was one of astonishment.  "Oh, Paris, I am so flattered, but I don't want to intrude on your family."

                She reached across the table and clasped his hand.  "I consider you a part of my family.  You missed our wedding.  I don't want you to miss this, too.  Please."

                He squeezed her hand gently.  "I would be honored, Paris."

                "Thank you, Tristan.  We'll be getting into Stars Hollow at around six o'clock on Friday evening.  Can you make it?"

                "I wouldn't miss it."

                "Good.  Don't be late."

                "Not a chance."

*              *              *

                At five o'clock on Friday, Paris stood outside Rory's office, glaring at her watch and tapping her foot impatiently.  "Come _on, Rory, we have to pick up Jess in fifteen minutes."_

                "Just a minute, Paris!  We can either have a full article go to press in this issue, or we can be five minutes late to pick up your husband.  Take your pick."

                "You know, this wouldn't be a problem if you had finished your article at lunch instead of cooing into the phone at Ryan."

                Rory emerged from her office wearing a scowl.  "You know, I would have been done five minutes ago if you hadn't been standing out here haranguing me."

                "Are you ready to go?"

                "Yes."

                "Then let's go."

                Five minutes later, they were speeding their way towards Paris and Jess' apartment.  Much to Paris' dismay, Jess wasn't waiting outside as they had agreed.

                "Good grief, is _anyone from Stars Hollow ever on time?" barked Paris._

                "Just Taylor, and there's a reason no one really gets along with him," responded Rory.  "Things just aren't as urgent in small towns.  Well, except for my mom, but she's perpetually late, so it doesn't really count."

                Paris stared at her.  "What on _earth are you babbling about?"_

                "Oh, look, there's Jess!"

                "It's about time," Paris growled.

                Rory climbed out of the passenger seat as he approached.  "Hi, Jess."

                "Hey Rory.  How's it going?"

                "There's a reason I'm surrendering the front seat."

                "That good, huh?"

                "Hey, she's _your wife."_

                "I can _hear you, you know," Paris snapped.  "Now get in the car."_

                "Yes, dear," smirked Jess, as he and Rory slid into their seats.

                No sooner were the car doors shut than Jess flipped on the radio.  Classical music filled the car, and he quickly changed the station.

                As rock music began to blare, Paris reached over and switched it back.  "There is no way this baby is coming into the world knowing the lyrics to Clash songs."

                "I brought a book on CD," Rory piped up from the back seat, hoping to stave off an argument.

                Grateful for the interruption, Jess asked, "What is it?"

                "_Great Expectations."_

                He turned to his wife.  "Is that okay with you?"

                Paris nodded, and Rory handed the CD to Jess,

                Forty minutes later, the three were engrossed in the story when Luke and Lorelai's house came into view.

                Abruptly, Rory sat up straight as she caught sight of a shiny black BMW sitting next to Luke's dusty old truck.

                Quietly, she asked, "What is Tristan doing here?"

To be continued… 


	18. I build fifty-story skyscrapers, I assem...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary:  Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted her were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's title quote is from _Three Men and a Baby.  I love that movie…_

Unholy Alliance 

**By Grace**

Part Eighteen:  I build fifty-story skyscrapers, I assemble cities of the future…I can certainly put together a diaper…

                "I invited him," Paris responded from the front seat.  Her voice took on an edge when she added, "Is that a problem?"

                "Nooo," Rory replied slowly.  "I guess I'm just wondering why."

                Paris sighed as she put the car in park and turned off the ignition.  "Because, Rory, this is an important weekend for me, and I wanted him to be here for it."

                "But he already knows you're pregnant."  Rory's voice reflected her genuine confusion.

                "So do you," the other woman shot back.

                "But…this is my house.  And we're family."

                Paris turned in her seat to face Rory, her features uncharacteristically soft.  "I consider Tristan to be a part of my family, too.  I'm sorry if you have a problem with him being here."

                Feeling a surge of compassion, Rory reached out and rested her hand on the blonde's shoulder.  "I don't have a problem with it, Paris, I promise.  I was just…surprised."

                Paris nodded her head in understanding, and the three quickly extricated themselves from the car.  As they mounted the porch steps, the front door was flung open by a typically exuberant Lorelai Danes.

                She practically hurled herself at Rory, wailing "My firstborn!" in a terrifying Scarlett O'Hara accent.

                Struggling to breathe as Lorelai practically crushed her ribs, she managed to gasp out, "Hi mom."

                When the senior Gilmore girl finally loosened her death grip, Rory looked up to see Luke standing in the doorway holding Charlotte, while Billy huddled beside his leg…and just behind him, slightly off to the side and holding Emma, lurked a positively petrified-looking Tristan DuGrey.

                Deciding to delay the torture tactics until after she had greeted the rest of her family, Rory crouched down and extended her arms to Billy, who excitedly flew into them.

                "Rory!  I missed you!"

                She hugged her little brother tightly.  "I missed you too, sweetie.  Are you getting excited about starting kindergarten in a few weeks?"

                He nodded his head vigorously against her shoulder, then pushed back slightly and met her gaze.  "Mm-hmm.  Mommy said that we can go next week to pick out my backpack and stuff."

                "Wow, that's pretty exciting.  Make sure you pick out a good one, okay?"

                "'Kay."

                Releasing Billy, Rory rose to her feet and plucked Charlotte from Luke's arms.  "Hi there, baby girl," she cooed, hoisting Charlotte above her head as the little girl giggled with delight.

                "You're getting so big!  Pretty soon you and your sister are going to be terrorizing Billy, aren't you?"

                "Hey!" protested the little boy, as the adults burst into laughter.

                Handing Charlotte back to her father, Rory strolled towards Tristan, her gait practically predatory.  "Well, look at what we have here," she drawled.  "Apparently the lion and the lamb learned how to get along after all."

                His handsome face twisted into a scowl.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

                She stifled a giggle.  "Tristan, have you even held a child before?"

                He shifted slightly, obviously uncomfortable.  "Well, no."  He paused.  "How could you tell?"

                Gently, she extricated Emma from his arms.  "Because the last time I checked, a little girl is not the same as a football."

                His face flushed scarlet, a development she ignored as she covered Emma's cheeks with kisses.

                Stumbling over his words, Tristan mumbled, "I'm—I'm sorry if I did something wrong…I didn't mean…"

                Catching his eye, Rory unexpectedly flashed a dazzling smile.  "I was just teasing.  You should have seen Luke when Billy was born—it was like watching Darth Vader try to cuddle a puppy."

                "Hey!" protested the father in question, sounding very much like his five-year-old son.

                "Oh, I don't know," interjected Lorelai.  "Maybe not Darth Vader, but at the very least Chewbacca."

                "He was definitely better than Jabba the Hutt," commented Paris.

                Jess beamed at his wife.  "You really _have been paying attention to the movies, haven't you?"_

                "As fascinating as this analysis of _Star Wars is—despite its vast inferiority to __Star Trek—the point of this little gathering is to have a nice family dinner, so why don't we move this inside?" suggested Luke._

                Lorelai pouted.  "You're no fun."

                "So I've heard," he deadpanned.

                Luke, Lorelai, Paris, Jess, and Billy filed into the house, but when Rory moved to follow them, Tristan said, "Wait."

                She turned to face him, confusion clouding her eyes.  "What is it, Tristan?"

                "Are you going to do this all weekend?"

                "Do what?"

                "Antagonize me.  Make me feel like the stranger that I am.  I'm only here because Paris invited me, but if this is going to be such a hardship to you, the very least I can do is stay at a hotel or something."  His voice was bitter and sad.

                "Tristan…I thought we had moved past this.  I was just teasing; you should know that."

                He ducked his head.  "I know.  I just—I've never been around a family like this.  I know I don't fit in here."

                Studying him for a moment, Rory handed Emma back to him and placed her hand on his elbow.  "Then it's time for you to learn how to fit in.  Welcome to my home, Tristan."

*              *              *

                The entire group was crowded around the dinner table an hour later, eagerly digging into Luke's homemade fired chicken.  Society-bred instincts kicking in, Tristan automatically reached for his knife and fork at the beginning of the meal.  A gentle nudge from Rory reminded him that they didn't stand on such formality in Stars Hollow.  The food was delicious, but the conversation was even better.  He had sat through countless meals with the upper crust of society, evenings filled with wealthy businessmen, politicians, dignitaries, and celebrities.  The topics ranged from meaningless chit-chat about the weather or the latest hit TV shows, to heated debated concerning foreign policy, economics, and the environment.  In spite of the starchy, suffocating shirts, Tristan had often found these conversations invigorating.  Never, though, had he ever heard so much laughter.  Lorelai and Rory kept up a near-constant stream of witty banter, with occasional sarcastic barbs from Jess and good-naturedly dour remarks from Luke.  Even Paris seemed more relaxed and at home than Tristan had ever seen her, tossing off one-liners that resulted in wide, surprised eyes and hearty guffaws.  Little Billy joined in the laughter without knowing why, while Emma and Charlotte's high-pitched two-year-old giggles punctuated the atmosphere.

                When everyone had eaten more than they had any right to, and were pushing back from the dinner table, the doorbell rang.  Tristan didn't miss the meaningful glance exchanged by Lorelai and Paris, but before he had a chance to ponder that, Rory rose from her seat and announced, "I'll get it."

                She made her way quickly to the front door, expecting to find Babette or Miss Patty on the other side of it.  To her astonishment, she discovered her best friend.  "Lane!  What are you doing here?  I thought you had to work this weekend."

                Lane grinned at her, dark eyes sparkling behind her glasses.  "Some of the shifts got switched around, and since I knew you were coming here, I thought I'd come see everybody."  She peered into the house.  "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

                "Of course not!" Rory exclaimed.  "Come on in; we just finished dinner.  I know everyone will be thrilled to see you."

                "And I'll be thrilled to see everyone."

                Entering the house, Lane followed Rory into the other room.  She immediately caught sight of Tristan, and feigned astonishment at finding him there.  "Tristan!  I didn't know you were going to be here this weekend."

                He gave her a wide smile, grateful to see a familiar face.  "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision."  He stood and walked over to greet her, pulling her into a hug.  "It's great to see you again, Lane."

                "You, too.  What brings you to Stars Hollow?"

                He released her and looked back at the table.  "Paris, actually.  She seemed to think it was important for me to be here."

                At his words, all eyes focused on Paris.  "What _is the reason for this visit, Jess?" Luke asked._

                "What, can't a guy come home for a little family bonding?" Jess replied with a smirk.

                His uncle folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, his face a study in skepticism.  "Sure, but it's not something you do."

                Jess turned and gazed at his wife, an unspoken communication passing between them.

                Paris nodded, and then said, "I guess it's time."

                "Time for what?" interjected Lorelai.

                Paris reached over and took Jess by the hand.  "We have an announcement to make."

                Lorelai's eyes began to shine in understanding, but Luke still looked puzzled.  "Well, what is it?" he asked gruffly.

                It was Jess who answered.  "We're going to have a baby.  Paris is pregnant."

                With a squeal of excitement, Lorelai jumped up and rushed over to them.  "I'm so happy for you!  When did you find out?  How far along are you?  When are you due?"

                Paris laughed.  "Hey, one question at a time!  We found out several weeks ago, but we wanted to tell you in person.  I'm due in late March or early April."

                "That's wonderful, Paris.  Are you excited?"

                The younger woman nodded, her cheeks flushed.  "A little scared, too."

                "That's normal," Lorelai reassured her.  "The _really scary part comes __after the baby is born."_

                Paris blanched.  "Gee, thanks," she said wryly.

                Meanwhile, Jess stole a glance at Luke, who had remained silent.  There was a note of bitterness in his voice, a remnant of the insecurities from his teenage years, when he asked, "So what do you think, Uncle Luke?"

                The other man stood and clasped his nephew's hand before pulling him into an awkward hug.  "I'm proud of you, Jess," he rumbled.

                Jess simply murmured, "Thanks" before releasing his uncle.

                Abruptly, Lorelai whirled on Rory.  "You knew!" she exclaimed.  "You knew and you didn't tell me!"

                Her daughter smiled smugly.  "It wasn't my news to tell."

                "Hmph.  Okay, who else knew?"

                Tentatively, Tristan raised his hand.

                Seeing his response, Lorelai advanced on him, her expression predatory.  "You knew.  You already knew.  So why, exactly, was it so important for you to be here?"  She shifted her attention to Paris and Jess.  "What's really going on here?"

                Paris grinned.  "Did you ever consider a career as a private eye?"

                "Aha!  I knew it!  Spill."

                "Why don't we go into the living room, where we'll be more comfortable?" Jess suggested.

                "Fine," Lorelai conceded.

                When they were all settled, one twin on Rory's lap and the other on Tristan's, Paris cleared her throat and began to speak.  "Obviously, this night is all about family.  That's something I haven't really had since my parents died.  Even then, our relationship was iffy at best.  The hormones have apparently turned me into a sentimental sap, which is why I wanted the family all together—even you, Tristan.  You're the closest thing to a brother I have."

                He ducked his head and blushed, snuggling Emma closer.  "Thanks, Paris."

                "Now, I know better than most that things rarely go the way we expect them to, and so we have to have contingency plans.  I didn't ever expect to lose my parents so young, but at least I was old enough to take care of myself.  I don't want my child—_our child," she amended, glancing at Jess, "to ever wonder who is going to take care of him or her.  We've talked it over, and we want this baby to have godparents—guardians that will know and love the baby, and be there in case anything ever happens."_

                "That sounds reasonable," Luke commented.

                Jess nodded.  "That's the other reason we wanted all of you here.  Rory, would you consider being our child's godmother?"

                She beamed, her eyes filling with tears.  Handing Charlotte to her mother, she went over to Paris and Jess and hugged them.  "It would be my honor.  Thank you so much."

                "You're welcome, Rory," Paris whispered.  Raising her voice, she continued with, "Of course, godparents generally come in sets of two.  That's why we'd love it for you to be the godfather, Tristan."

                His crystal blue eyes widened in shock, and he nearly lost his grip on Emma.  Noticing this, Rory giggled and said, "With a little luck, he'll have been child-handling skills by then."

                "Cute, Rory," shot back Tristan.  Setting Emma down on the couch, he went and shook Jess' hand, and then embraced Paris.  "This means so much to me, you guys.  I am so honored and flattered.  I would love the privilege."

                "Then it's yours," Jess replied.

*              *              *

                By nine-thirty that night, Billy and the twins were snuggled in their beds, sound asleep; Luke and Lorelai were relaxing on the couch in the living room; Lane had gone home to her mother's; and Paris and Jess had gone for a walk around Stars Hollow.

                Rory loaded the last of the dessert plates into the dishwasher, and then wandered out to the front porch.  The heat of the day had dissipated, leaving a pleasantly warm summer evening—with just a hint of the impending autumn in the air.

                She drew in a deep breath, reveling in the fresh air, the peace and quiet—and then nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice came out of the darkness behind her.

                "It's beautiful here."

                Whirling around, one hand pressed over her pounding heart, Rory yelped, "Don't _do that, Tristan!"_

                "Sorry.  I thought you knew I was out here."

                She took a calming breath before responding.  "Subconsciously, I probably did.  I guess I was just lost in thought."

                "It's easy to do that in this place.  You were lucky to grow up here."

                Her face twisted into a wry smile.  "Funny, I don't think the rest of the people from Chilton would agree with you."

                "They just don't know what they're missing."

                Crossing the porch, Rory took a seat beside him on the old wooden swing.  "When did you become so sentimental?"

                He averted his gaze, obviously embarrassed.  "It's just…seeing your mom and Luke, Paris and Jess…I never saw myself as the white-picket-fence, two-point-five kids and a dog kind of guy.  They just seem so happy, you know?  For the first time in my life, I don't know, I feel like maybe I've been missing out."

                Leaning back against the swing, Rory set it into a gentle swaying motion.  Gazing up at the stars, she responded quietly, "It's strange to think of Paris and Jess being parents.  I've always known I wanted to have that someday.  This just makes me want it more."

                "You'll have it someday, Rory."

                She turned to face him.  "You don't think you will?"

                He laughed bitterly.  "I'm not supposed to be the marrying type, remember?  I'm just the rich, idle playboy.  Women want someone more dependable—someone like RJ."

                "Okay, that's enough feeling sorry for yourself, DuGrey.  If Paris Gellar and Jess Mariano can live their own fairy tale, it can happen to you, too."

                "Maybe, but when?"

                "When it always does—when you least expect it."

                He didn't reply, just tilted his head back and closed his eyes.  After a moment of sitting motionless, he reached over and took Rory by the hand.  They stayed that way for a long time, enjoying the night and each other's company—all without saying a word.

_To be continued…_


	19. Six bucks and my right nut say we're not...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know this chapter took a while.  It's becoming a pattern.  Sadly, I don't think the pattern will be changing anytime soon.  It could be worse…it could be _Unbreakable Heart.  Anyway, this chapter's title quote is from __Planes, Trains, and Automobiles._

Unholy Alliance 

**by**** Grace**

Part Nineteen: Six bucks and my right nut say we're not landing in Chicago.

                _Nearly three months have passed since last we saw Tristan and Rory.  The two of them have continued to work diligently on the web site, and are aiming for a New Year's Day launch.  Their friendship has evolved, deepened, and they are more comfortable around one another than ever before.  They have settled easily into their roles as neighbors, car-pooling to work, and often having take-out for dinner in one or the other's apartment.  They have managed to avoid any further awkward moments, and Tristan has convinced himself that friendship with Rory is more than enough for him._

                Meanwhile, Rory and Ryan are still going strong.  In fact, she is heading to Chicago to spend Thanksgiving with his family.  Although most of the time she is content with their relationship, occasionally Rory gets the sense that something is missing…

                The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Rory came into Paris' office and flopped into a chair with a sigh.  "Have I mentioned how much I hate traveling at Thanksgiving?"

                At nearly five months along, Paris was finally beginning to _look pregnant.  Leaning back in her chair, she placed a hand on her gently protruding belly before responding.  "Then why are you going?"_

                "It's really important to Ryan.  If the chemotherapy doesn't work, his grandfather might not be around at this time next year.  I know that Ryan really wants me to meet him."

                "The things we do for love," Paris commented lightly.

                When Rory didn't respond, Paris fixed her with a piercing gaze.  "You _do love him, don't you?"_

                "Of course!" Rory exclaimed, a bit too quickly.  "And I know that he loves me."  She glanced away, her cheeks coloring.  "I think he might be planning to propose this weekend."

                "What makes you say that?"

                "Just a feeling.  He keeps telling me that when he thinks about the future, he sees me in it."

                "I'm sensing a 'but,' Rory."

                The other woman sighed.  "It's stupid, really.  I've just always had this silly idea that you shouldn't marry someone just because you think you can live with him, but because you don't think you can live _without him."_

                "That's not silly at all," Paris said quietly.  "Don't you think that's how Ryan feels about you?"

                "I know that he loves me," Rory repeated her earlier words.  "But sometimes I think he sees marriage as a means to an end—a way to achieve the life he always thought he should have."

                Paris didn't answer, and Rory suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed.  "Forget I said anything.  I'm just being ridiculous, I know.  Life isn't a fairy tale, right?"

                "No, it's not," Paris replied as Rory got up to leave.  When she was once again alone in her office, she added, "But that doesn't mean it can't be one."

*              *              *

                Rory settled gratefully into her airplane set on Wednesday night.  There had been several moments that evening when she didn't think she would ever get out of the airport.  As was typical for Thanksgiving, Bradley had been completely chaotic.  A rash of winter storms scattered across the country hadn't exactly improved the situation, either.  Her flight to O'Hare had been delayed over two hours by snow in Chicago, and Rory had practically given up hope that she would ever leave Hartford.

                Finally, though, she was on-board, half-starved and exhausted, with only the prospect of a tiny bag of something vaguely resembling trail mix to look forward to in the next two hours.  With a small groan, she closed her eyes and tried to get some rest.

                Sleep, though, proved elusive, as it is wont to do on airplanes.  No sooner had she found a reasonably comfortable position, than the seat beside her was occupied with an unceremonious "thud."  Raising one heavy lid to see her newfound companion, the other promptly flew open when she recognized Tristan beside her.

                "What the hell are you doing here?" she yelped, sitting bolt upright.

                "Lovely to see you too, Rory," he drawled.  "I assure you, this is as much a surprising coincidence to me as it is to you."

                "I thought you were going to California for the weekend?"

                "I was.  I am.  After all, nothing says Thanksgiving cheer quite like getting sloshed with my parents at a winery in Napa."

                "Why the change of plans, then?"

                "Weather, naturally.  I was supposed to be on an earlier flight, but it got cancelled, and here I am."

                "I still don't understand why you're going to Chicago instead of California."

                "Connecting flight."

                "Oh.  Well, I suppose having you here will make the flight more bearable."

                "I'm so glad you approve.  So, are you nervous about meeting RJ's family?"

                She shrugged slightly.  "A little, I suppose.  I want them to like me, you know?"

                He patted her hand gently.  "How could they not?"

                Rory grinned. "That's sweet of you to say."

                "Just telling the truth.  You're a wonderful person, Rory.  You're the kind of woman parents dream of their son bringing home to meet them."

                "Thank you, Tristan."

                "You're welcome.  Now, if you'd like to try and get some sleep, you're more than welcome to use my shoulder as a pillow.  It should be softer than the wall, at least."

                "I think I'll take you up on that offer, thanks."

                He raised the armrest between them, and she gratefully leaned against the softness of his fleece shirt.  Snuggling in closer, she was sound asleep within minutes.

                Tristan gazed down at the dark head in silence, marveling at the events that led him to this place and time.  Moving slowly and carefully, he lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders, drawing her closer so that her head was resting against his chest.  A flood of peace and contentment overtook him, and soon sleep claimed him as well.

*              *              *

                Rory woke up when the captain came over the loudspeaker to announce that they were beginning their descent into Chicago.  The pillow her head was resting against was much firmer and warmer than she was accustomed to, and after a moment, she realized the pillow smelled a lot like Tristan's cologne…

                Looking up, her gaze was met by Tristan, who had a tiny smile on his face.  "Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.  Did you have a nice nap?"

                Sitting up and stretching, Rory nodded.  "Mm-hmm.  You know, if the consulting business doesn't pan out, you could become a professional pillow."

                "Now that sounds like a stellar career path."

                "Hey, it never hurts to keep your options open."

                "I'll keep that in mind.  Is RJ meeting you at the airport?"

                "Yeah, down by baggage claim.  What time is your connecting flight to California?"

                "Not for another hour and a half."

                "What a way to spend Thanksgiving eve—sitting in an airport."

                "Oh, I don't know.  I've had worse holidays."

                Her eyes clouded.  "I'm sorry.  Sometimes I forget that not everyone does holidays the way we do in Stars Hollow."

                "Will it be hard for you, not being there this year?"

                "Yeah, but it was bound to happen sooner or later, right?  I may as well make the best of it."

                Before Tristan could respond, the public address system came to life.  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.  There are some pretty severe storms on their way into the Chicago area right now.  We are going to proceed with our landing, but we may experience some turbulence on the way down.  Thank you for your patience, and we'll have you on the ground soon."

                Tristan groaned.  "I have a feeling I'm not going to be getting to California anytime soon."

                Rory didn't respond, she was too busy white-knuckling his forearm.

                "Um, Rory, you're kind of hurting me."

                She met his eyes, but didn't loosen her grip.

                "Rory, what's wrong?  Talk to me, okay?"

                His words finally seemed to get through to her, and she blinked several times, then eased up on her grip on him.  "Sorry.  I just, um, don't like flying all that much.  I'm fine most of the time, but I kind of freak out when there's turbulence."

                Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.  "Hey, everything is going to be just fine.  Don't worry.  I'll keep you safe."

                "You promise?" she whispered, chuckling softly.

                "I promise."

*              *              *

                Thirty minutes later, they were once again on solid ground, taxiing towards the gate.  Tristan released Rory, and she leaned over to look out the window.  It appeared that they had landed just in time, as snow was swirling outside, and looked to be getting heavier by the minute.

                "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain again.  On behalf of the flight crew, and myself I'd like to welcome you to Chicago-O'Hare International Airport.  The local time is about 9:50 p.m.  The current temperature is thirty degrees Fahrenheit.  It appears that we got in just under the wire.  Ground control has informed me that the airport is now closed, with no flights arriving or departing until further notice.  If you were meeting a connecting flight here in Chicago, customer service representatives will be available to assist you at the gate.  We apologize for any inconvenience, and we thank you for choosing United Airlines.

                "You have got to be kidding me," grumbled Tristan.  "Well, I've always wondered what it would be like to sleep in an airport."

                "You're not going to sleep in the airport, Tristan.  We're going to go out there, talk to an agent, and then you're coming home with me and Ryan."

                "Rory, I'm not crashing your Thanksgiving."

                "Ryan is your friend and your partner.  I really don't think he'll consider it crashing.  You'd do the same for him, right?"

                "Of course."

                "Then let's get out of this flying death trap, and get someplace with nice warm beds."

                "Sounds like a plan."

*              *              *

                Another forty-five minutes had elapsed by the time Rory and Tristan arrived at the baggage claim area.  The airline attendant had cheerfully explained that they wouldn't be able to get Tristan on a flight to California until Friday at the earliest, what with Thanksgiving being the busiest travel time of the year and all.

                Rory, in an excellent imitation of Lorelai, had leapt into the conversation and declared the situation unacceptable.  By the time she was through, Tristan had received a voucher for a round-trip, first-class flight valid for anywhere in the contiguous United States.

                Tristan was still chuckling as they approached the baggage carousel.  "You were amazing, Rory!  For a minute, I thought the ticket agent was going to wet her pants."

                Rory wrinkled her nose in distaste.  "I'm glad she didn't.  That would have been disgusting.  I actually feel a little bad for terrorizing her.  It's not like she can control the weather.  She was just too damned perky!"

                Before he could respond, they heard a voice call out "Lorelai!"

                They both turned in time to see Ryan hurrying towards them.  When he caught sight of Tristan, he missed a step in surprise."

                Reaching the pair, he immediately asked, "What happened to California?"

                Smirking, Tristan replied.  "I'm fine, RJ.  How are you?"

                Rory smacked him lightly in the arm.  "Cute.  You think of that all by yourself?"

                "It's your fault for being nice to me."

                She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows.  "How do you figure that?"

                "My witty bantering skills are rusty, obviously."

                "Good heavens, how did you survive all those years we didn't see each other?"

                He frowned at the obvious hole in his logic.  "Oh.  Right.  Any chance you'd buy jet-lag?"

                "Because the one-hour time change is _so traumatic?"_

                "Fine.  You win.  Happy now?"

                Rory stuck out her lower lip in a mock pout.  "That was too easy."

                Tristan threw up his arms in defeat. "I can't do anything right, can I?" Finally turning his attention back to RJ, he asked, "How do you put up with her?"

                The other man's voice had a bitter edge.  "Oh, are you talking to me?  Here I thought I had suddenly become invisible."

                Stepping towards him, Rory wrapped her arms around his waist.  "Hey, don't be like that.  We didn't mean to seem like we were ignoring you.  Too much time in that sardine can with wings left us a little edgy."

                Ryan's gaze softened as he looked down at his girlfriend.  "I'm sorry, too.  I've just been worried, waiting for you to get here."

                "Believe me, I was a little nervous myself," Rory said.  "It was a good thing Tristan was there to help me though it."

                "Which reminds me, you still haven't said why you're here, buddy."

                "I guess you could call it a weather-induced change of plans.  I won't be able to get to Napa until Friday at the earliest."

                "Oh, man, I'm sorry.  What are you going to do?"

                Rory broke into the conversation.  "I told him he could spend Thanksgiving with us.  That's okay, isn't it?"

                "Of course!" Ryan replied after the most minute of pauses.  "The more the merrier.  My mom always cooks enough for a battalion, anyway."

                "Thanks, RJ," Tristan said sincerely.  "I didn't want to intrude on your holiday, but it sure beats staying in a hotel."

                RJ waved it off as insignificant.  "Don't be silly.  You're my friend, and you and Lorelai are practically like brother and sister."

                Tristan's face twisted into a pained expression for a second, but neither RJ nor Rory noticed.  "Brother and sister.  Right," he mumbled under his breath.

                "What was that?" Rory asked.

                "Nothing.  I, um, oh, there's my suitcase!" He quickly approached the conveyor and grabbed the black suitcase.  Setting it on the ground, he was struck by a disturbing thought.  He hadn't exactly packed clothes suitable for a Chicago winter.

                Peering down the length of the belt, Rory squealed, "There's my bag!"

                Both men turned towards where she was pointing.  Ryan looked mortified, while Tristan collapsed into gales of laughter.

                Nestled placidly amidst a sea of sedate black, navy blue, brown, and hunter green bags was what Tristan assumed had once been an innocuous black suitcase.  Sometime during its life, however, it had been attacked by someone with a sincere love of glitter and an…interesting sense of color.  Tristan's money was on Lorelai.

                Nearly every inch of the bag had been covered in a myriad of colors of metallic spray paint.  One side was silver, with "STARS HOLLOW OR BUST!" painted in large purple letters.  The opposite side of the suitcase sported a gold background, and was scattered with red hearts, orange stars, yellow moons, green clovers…Tristan stopped mid-thought, suddenly sensing a pattern.

                "You have a Lucky Charms suitcase!" he announced, laughter in his voice.

                Rory beamed at him.  "You figured it out!  I'll have to tell my mom—she'll be so excited."

                "What _is that thing?" Ryan asked._

                She looked up at him, hurt evident on her face.  "It's my suitcase.  My mom decorated it for me, so that I'd always know which one is mine."

                "Oh.  That was very…creative of her."

                Irritated by his friend's attitude, Tristan turned away and grabbed Rory's suitcase as it rumbled past.  There were times when he was positively convinced that RJ had a stick shoved up his ass.

                Rory was quiet as they made their way out to the parking lot.  The wind was bitingly cold, cutting through the heavy material of her winter coat, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body.  Ryan strode purposefully ahead, digging his car keys out of his pocket.  Tristan matched his pace to Rory's, nudging her gently with his shoulder.  "Hey, are you okay?"

                "Yeah, I'm fine.  I'm just tired, that's all."

                "Are you sure?"

                "Mm-hmm." She smiled softly up at him.  "I'm glad you're here, Tristan."

                "So am I, Rory."

                Popping the trunk, Ryan called out, "Hurry up, you two!  It's freezing out here."

                A few moments later, the three of them were huddled in the car, waiting impatiently for the heat to kick in.  It wasn't long before they were on their way, with Ryan confidently navigating out of the massive airport.  No sooner had they gotten on the northbound Tri-State, though, than traffic came to a near dead stop.

                "What's going on?" Rory asked.  "Is there an accident up ahead?"

                "There might be, but it's just as likely there's not," Ryan replied.

                "Then why are we stopped?" she persisted.

                "Welcome to Chicago, Lorelai.  Traffic sucks under the best of circumstances, which these certainly aren't.  Plus, this is the first real snowfall they've had, and every year people manage to forget how to drive in it."

                Rory groaned softly.  "Lovely.  How far do we have to go?"

                "About twenty-five miles.  It could take a while."

                "That's about par for the course today," Tristan commented.

                "I know this isn't where you expected to be, is it DuGrey?"

                "Not exactly.  I really do appreciate you and your family letting me crash your holiday."

                "Speaking of family," Rory spoke up, "did you let yours know that you won't be making it to Napa?"

                "I'll give them a call in the morning, wish them a Happy Thanksgiving.  They weren't expecting to see me until tomorrow anyway."

                "Okay.  So, Ryan, who all is going to be at dinner tomorrow?"

                "The whole extended family on my mom's side—aunts, uncles, cousins, and of course, my grandparents."

                "Have you seen your grandfather?" she asked softly.

                Ryan nodded.  "My sister and I went over to the house this morning.  He's pretty weak, but he was able to sit and talk with us for a few hours.  I know he's really looking forward to meeting you."

                She reached over and rested her left hand on top of his right, and said, "I'm looking forward to it, too."

                Sprawled out in the back seat, Tristan watched the exchange with a sinking heart.  Although RJ could be uptight and annoying at times, he was still a good man.  He and Rory obviously cared very much about one another.

                Closing his eyes, Tristan resigned himself to the reality that he didn't belong here.

_To be continued…_


	20. Is that flannel a nod to the crispy Seat...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's title quote is from _Clueless._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**By Grace**

Part 20: Is that flannel a nod to the crispy Seattle weather, or are you just trying to stay warm in front of the fridge?

                Rory's eyes fluttered open when she heard a car door slam.  "Are we there yet?" she mumbled.

                When there was no answer, she turned her head and saw that Ryan was no longer in the driver's seat.  Tristan, on the other hand, was still sound asleep in the back seat.  She stared at him for a moment, noting how peaceful and innocent he looked in his sleep.  Not exactly words she would use to describe him under normal circumstances…

                A blast of cold air assaulted her as Ryan opened the passenger door.  "Good, you're awake," he remarked.  "We're at my parents' house.  I've got the luggage.  Do you mind waking up Sleeping Beauty back there?"

                She yawned and stretched before answering him.  "No problem.  You go on into the house."

                "I'll be waiting for you."

                He hurried towards the house, and Rory climbed out of the car.  Opening the back passenger door, she leaned in and gently shook Tristan by the shoulder.  When he didn't respond, she shook him harder and called him name.

                This time, his eyes opened, and he gave her a sleepy smile.  "Hey there, beautiful," he murmured.  "What time is it?"

                Rory was grateful that the darkness masked her blush.  "Tristan, come on, wake on.  We're at Ryan's parents' house."

                Sitting up, he shook his head to clear away the cobwebs of sleep.  "We finally made it, huh?  It's not Napa, but I suppose it'll do."

                She chuckled and grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the car.  "I'm so glad you approve.  Now move your butt—I'm cold."

                "Aw, Mary wants to see me shake my booty!" he teased.

                "Your booty's going to be a Popsicle if you don't get off it," she shot back.

                "You're so demanding," he lamented, climbing out into the frosty air.  "Where's RJ?"

                "He took our suitcases into the house."

                "What a gentleman, leaving you out here in the cold."

                "Be nice!  At least he didn't leave me the suitcases," she teased, giggling.

                "Point taken."

                Punchy with cold and exhaustion, Rory and Tristan climbed the porch steps and stumbled into the house, laughing softly.

                Upon their entrance, Ryan immediately put a finger to his lips and shushed them.  "Everyone's asleep," he admonished them.  "Come on—I'll show you where you're sleeping."

                Duly chastised, they followed him, stifling their chuckles.  They didn't have far to go, stopping in the living room beside the couch.  "You're going to have to sleep on the fold-out, Tristan.  I'm sorry, but we don't have room anywhere else."

                "That's okay.  I could sleep on concrete right about now."

                "We have a basement, if you're interested," RJ joked.

                "Um, I'll stick with the couch, thanks."

                "Fair enough.  I'll bring some sheets and pillows down after I get Lorelai settled."

                "I'll be waiting with baited breath.  Night, Rory."

                "Night, Tristan."

                Ryan led Rory upstairs to a beautifully appointed guestroom.  The queen-sized bed beckoned invitingly, and Rory immediately flopped down on it face-first.

                "I guess I don't have to ask if you're comfortable," Ryan said with a smile.

                "Mmm," she moaned happily.  Rolling over, she said, "I'm never moving."

                He sat down beside her on the bed.  "As appealing as having you in bed forever sounds, it just wouldn't feel right in my parents' house."

                Sitting up, she gave him a quick kiss.  "Sadly, I'm far too tired to continue this flirtation.  I'll see you in the morning, Ryan."

                He kissed her on the forehead.  "Okay.  Goodnight, Lorelai.  I love you."

                "I love you, too."

                She waited until he had closed the door behind him before standing up and hoisting her suitcase onto the bed.  It was tempting to just crawl into bed in her clothes, but she knew she'd get too warm in the middle of the night and end up having to change anyway.

                Five minutes later, Rory was snuggled under the covers in her blue cloud-printed flannel jammies.  She had brushed her teeth and washed her face in the bathroom down the hall, and now she was all set for sleep to claim her.

                The only problem was, sleep was nowhere in sight.  Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she groaned softly when she saw it was midnight—which meant her body thought it was one o'clock in the morning.  Why couldn't she fall asleep?

                Her question was answered when her stomach abruptly growled loudly.  She hadn't eaten for twelve hours, and she knew sleep wouldn't come until she did.  There was only one thing to do—she just hoped the Salingers didn't mind her raiding their refrigerator.

                Crawling out of bed, Rory slipped on her bathrobe and a pair of slippers in an attempt to stay warm.  She tiptoed over to the door, opening it slowly, and said a silent word of thanks that it didn't creak.  Now all she had to do was make it downstairs, in the dark, in an unfamiliar house, without breaking any bones or furniture…

*              *              *

                Flipping over from his back to his stomach, Tristan burrowed deeper under the covers, and clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering.  His T-shirt and pajama pants were definitely suited for warmer weather, and RJ neglected to mention where extra blankets might be found.  His discomfort was compounded by the fact that he had felt rocks softer than the sofa-bed mattress.  Less lumpy, too.

                Tristan sighed and tried not to think about the fact that if all had gone according to plan, he would have spent his evening sipping wine from California's finest vineyards before retiring to an opulent cottage with a plush king-sized bed.  If he had been really lucky, he wouldn't have spent the night alone, either.

                Oh, whom was he kidding?  Of course he would have been alone, just like he had been every single night for…well, for far too long.  It wasn't for lack of opportunity, either.  Women had always flocked to Tristan.  But ever since Rory reentered his life…

                Rory.  She was the only positive he could find in being stuck in Illinois.  It was really rather sad that even his positives had a masochistic bent.  He knew spending so much time with her was unhealthy; knew that RJ would most likely propose before the year was out; knew that it wouldn't be long until she was popping out babies, who would know him only as "crazy uncle Tristan," the one that bought them the expensive toys.

                He knew he should distance himself from her.  That would prove difficult, of course, seeing as they were both Godparents to Paris and Jess' unborn child.  Talk about being both a blessing and a curse…

                The soft pad of footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted his pity party.  Tristan stilled, not wanting a member of the household to realize he was still awake and ask him solicitous questions.  Of course, then he might get that much-needed extra blanket…

                There was a small thud, and then he heard a familiar voice whisper, "Damn!"

                Sitting up, he called out softly, "Rory? Are you okay?"

                "I'm fine," she whispered back.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you."

                "Trust me, I wasn't sleeping," he said dryly.

                "How come?"

                "Prisoners in 13th-century dungeons had better accommodations than this sofa.  Plus, I'm freezing.  Anyway, why are you up?"

                "I'm starving," she admitted sheepishly.  "Want to raid the fridge with me?"

                "I could eat."

                He climbed out of bed, dragging the blanket off and wrapping it around his body.  Despite his makeshift robe, Rory caught sight of his T-shirt, and had to choke back her laughter.

                "What?" he asked defensively.

                "Nice shirt," she giggled.

                "What's wrong with it?"

                "Nothing," she replied, struggling to keep a straight face.  "I just ever would have pegged you as a Transformers fan."

                "Hey, I'm not the one with a My Little Pony patch sewn on the knee of my favorite blue jeans."

                "They're a classic from my childhood!"

                "Yeah, well, so is this."

                "Touché," she said.  "Now come on, I'm still hungry."

                Slowly and carefully, they made their way into the kitchen, where Rory fumbled along the wall until she found a light switch.

                They both blinked at the sudden brightness, and then Rory's jaw fell slightly open.  "Wow," she breathed.

                The kitchen was immaculate, not to mention huge.  The appliances were brushed stainless, and included a side-by-side industrial-sized refrigerator, restaurant-grade oven, and a six-burner range.  The counter was Corian, as was the large island in the middle of the room.  Suspended from the ceiling was an elaborate pot rack that supported a ridiculous amount of cookware.

                "I don't think I should be in here," Rory whispered.

                "Why not?"

                "Because this kitchen is going to know that I have no idea what to do with anything in here, and it will self-destruct from the horror."

                Tristan took here hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.  "I'm pretty sure that the kitchen isn't equipped with artificial intelligence, so we should be okay."

                "You're sure?"

                "I'm sure."

                Reluctantly, Tristan released her hand and went over to the refrigerator, while Rory approached a door that looked like it might conceal a pantry.  They didn't speak for a few minutes, but then she let out a soft squeal.

                Tristan poked his head around the refrigerator door and asked, "Find something good?"

                "Easy Cheese!" she called back softly.

                Brow furrowed in confusion, Tristan closed the fridge and said, "What?"

                Rory emerged from the bowels of the pantry triumphantly clutching a box of Club crackers and what looked like an aerosol can with a bright orange cap.

                "What _is that?"_

                "Cheese and crackers."

                "No, it's not.  It's crackers and a can."

                "Like I said, cheese and crackers."

                "They make cheese in a can?" His disbelief was apparent.

                "You've never heard of Easy Cheese?" It was Rory's turn to be astonished.

                "Somehow I've made it this far in life without it."

                "Then you've been missing out."

                "I'm having a hard time believing that."

                "Trust me, you'll love it."

                He sighed.  "Fine.  I always said I'd try anything once."

                She flashed him a wicked grin.  "I'll keep that in mind."

                Turning her attention back to their snack, Rory uncapped the can and squeezed about half an inch of a hard-looking orange strand onto a napkin.

                Disgusted, Tristan asked, "You want me to eat _that?"_

                "Of course not, silly," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  "A little bit always get dried up after you use it."  She pulled a cracker from the box and proceeded to squirt a generous amount of orange goop onto it.  "I want you to eat _this."_

                Grimacing, he took the proffered cracker and popped the entire thing into his mouth.  After he had chewed and swallowed, he commented, "Hey that's not half-bad."

                "I told you so."

                "Gloating is a very unattractive trait."

                "That certainly explains the way you look," she teased.

                "Ouch!  Okay, it's your turn to try something new."

                "Like what?"

                "Have you ever had caviar?"

                Rory wrinkled her nose.  "Ew.  No."

                "There's a first time for everything, right?"

                "I guess that's fair," she conceded.

                Returning to the refrigerator, he pulled out a loaf of bread and a tub of cream cheese.

                "What happened to the caviar?"

                "We have to do this right—I'm making toast points."

                "Oh.  Of course."

                She watched as he pulled open various drawers around the kitchen, finally stopping when he found a knife.  Placing a slice of bread on the counter-top cutting board, he trimmed the crusts with practiced ease, then cut it into four triangles.  Tristan popped them into the toaster oven, pulling them out when they were lightly browned, and placed them on a napkin in front of Rory.

                "Now what?" she asked.

                Tristan handed her the knife and instructed her, "Put a little cream cheese on the toast.  I'll get the caviar."

                She looked at him skeptically, but did as she was told.  When Tristan returned to her side with a spoon and an open jar of caviar, she tried not to cringe with revulsion.  She watched as he carefully spooned a small amount of the dark beads onto each toast point, and swallowed hard when he turned to her expectantly.

                "Go ahead, try one," he urged.

                Rory took a deep breath, and placed one in her mouth before she could lose her nerve.  Tristan grinned as he watched her expression transform to one of surprised pleasure.

                "That was really food!" she commented quietly.

                "Go ahead and eat the rest.  I want some more of that Easy Cheese."

                They munched on their snacks in companionable silence for several minutes.  Then Rory asked, "Where would you be if you weren't here now?"

                "Probably on an airplane headed west, but I'm guessing that's not the answer you're looking for.  I was supposed to be staying at the Silverado Resort.  They have these great cottages to rent, a golf course, fantastic restaurants, and a spa that you wouldn't believe."

                "It sounds amazing.  What I wouldn't give for a masseuse…"

                "Stressed?"

                "Yeah," she replied.  "I'm not really sure why—everything is going well.  It's probably a side effect of too many years around Paris."

                He chuckled.  "That would stress out anyone."

                Rory nodded, trying desperately to stifle a yawn.

                "You look like you need to go to bed."

                She nodded her assent.  "It's been a long day."

                They quickly cleaned up the remnants of their snack, then made their way back into the living room.  When they reached the sofa bed, Rory's exhausted limbs compelled her to flop down on top of it, only to immediately spring to her feet.

                "That is the most uncomfortable bed in the history of the world!"

                "Tell me about it," he said ruefully.

                "Well, you obviously can't sleep here," she declared.  "Come on."

                "Where are we going?" he asked, trailing after her.

                "My room.  I have a nice, soft, warm, queen-sized bed.  There is absolutely no reason for you to sleep on that…that Chinese torture device!"

                "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were propositioning me, Rory," he said with a grin.

                She groaned softly.  "I don't know why I bother being nice to you."

                Tristan grabbed hold of her hand and replied, "Aw, you know you love me."

                "Whatever.  Now hurry up, I'm freezing."

                He couldn't help smiling in amusement as she scampered into the guestroom and launched herself under the covers.  With just her nose and the top of her head peeking above the comforter, she looked utterly adorable.

                "Remind me one more time how old you are?" he joked.

                She poked her head a little further out, in a movement vaguely reminiscent of a turtle.  "If you're implying I'm immature, I'd be happy to live up to your expectations, throw a temper tantrum, and banish you to the couch for being mean."

                He clasped his hands to his chest in mock horror.  "Anything but that!"

                "Good to know we understand each other."

                He crawled into the bed beside her, careful to keep a safe distance between them.  Tristan was far too comfortable and warm to bother contemplating what RJ's reaction would be to finding him in bed with Rory.  Without another thought, be promptly fell asleep.

To be continued… 


	21. This field, this game, is a part of our ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary:  Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted her were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: Sorry about the delay, folks.  I've been busy trying to catch up with the GG elite fanfic archive that I oversee.  Needless to say, the story went on the backburner.

As with the chapters set in New York, the Chicago locations depicted here are real.  There really is an El stop on Addison Street, and you do head west from it to reach Wrigley Field.  I've been to the ballpark several times, although never in the winter, or in the dark, so that part is speculation and an educated guess on my part.  Also, unlike Tristan and his grandfather, I was lucky enough to get a foul ball while attending a Cubs game this fall.

This chapter's title quote is from _Field of Dreams.  If you've never seen it, rent it.  Or, better yet, read the book on which it is based: __Shoeless Joe, by W.P. Kinsella._

Unholy Alliance 

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-One:  This field, this game, is a part of our past...  It reminds us of all that once was good and that could be again.

                Sunlight filtered into the bedroom, and Tristan squeezed his eyes more tightly shut.  He was far too comfortable to be awakened now.  When the warm mass beside him shifted, however, his eyes flew open in shock.  The events of the previous night came rushing back to him, and suddenly, the fact that he was snuggled up in bed beside his friend's girlfriend didn't seem like such a great thing.

                On the other hand, he was snuggled up in bed with _Rory, and in no universe did that equate to an entirely bad thing.  He sighed softly and extricated his arm from around her waist.  Despite the fact that there was no place on earth he would rather be, Tristan didn't think he could handle seeing the inevitable look of panic in Rory's eyes when she awoke and found him there._

                He needed to get out of there, and fast.  He crept carefully out of the bed and padded across the room towards the door.  His hand was on the doorknob when a thought occurred to him.  Returning to the bedside, Tristan hurriedly scribbled a note to Rory on the pad of paper sitting on the night table, then tore off the sheet and slipped it beneath the crook of her elbow.  His mission accomplished, he left the room without a glance backwards.

*              *              *

                Sunlight filtered into the bedroom, and Rory snuggled deeper under the covers.  She was warm, she was comfortable, and she was…alone.  There was something missing, but she couldn't put a finger on what it was.  She pushed herself up on her elbows, and caught sight of the rumpled sheets and dented pillow beside her, noted the scent of aftershave in the air.

                _Tristan.  She had slept with Tristan.  Well, not __slept with him, but…_

                Rory flopped face-first into her pillow and screamed.  How could one man be so frustrating when he wasn't even around?  Shifting slightly, she heard something crumple beneath her arm.  Grabbing hold of the piece of paper, she pulled it closer, and quickly read the note:

                _Rory—_

_Hope you slept well.  I needed to make a pilgrimage (no pun intended)—I'll be back in a few hours.  Happy Thanksgiving._

_                                                                                                                -Tristan_

                She furrowed her brow in confusion.  Pilgrimage?  They were in Chicago, not Mecca.  On top of that, it was Thanksgiving Day.  What could possibly be open?  Before she had a chance to contemplate it further, her super-sensitive sense of smell picked up the delectable aroma of freshly-brewed coffee.

                Tossing off the covers, she quickly shoved on her slippers and threw on her bathrobe.  The coffee gods were beckoning, and she had to heed their call.

*              *              *

                Tristan stepped off the train onto the El platform, pulling his coat more tightly around himself.  The wind was bitingly cold, and most of the city's denizens had the common sense to stay indoors.  He, on the other hand, had not been blessed with such a precious commodity.  With a determined stride, he set off down the steps to street level.

                Making his way out to the sidewalk, Tristan headed west down Addison Street.  His destination loomed ahead of him, a massive gray structure that filled an entire city block.  On a warm summer afternoon, this neighborhood would be teeming with people, the shouts of scalpers selling tickets mingling with the rumble of trains overhead.

                Quickening his pace, he battled the wind until he was standing beneath the bright red marquee that proclaimed Wrigley Field to be the home of the Chicago Cubs.  Glancing around quickly, he caught sight of a familiar figure huddled beside the building.

                "Jim!" he called out.  The man turned at the sound, and then hurried towards Tristan.

                Meeting halfway, they shared a firm handshake and exchanged pleasantries.

                "You, my friend, pick the most unusual times to call in your favors."

                Tristan grinned at his former college roommate.  "Sorry, buddy.  The need just strikes me at odd times."

                "Obviously.  I mean, Thanksgiving isn't exactly baseball season.  You know the field is covered in snow and all the ivy is brown, right?"

                "That's part of the appeal.  Anybody can go to the ballpark in the summer."

                "And most sane people do," Jim commented dryly.

                "You of all people have never mistaken me for sane."

                "True, true.  Look, I'd love to stay and catch up, but my in-laws will be getting to our place soon, and I need to be there."

                "Perfectly understandable.  Same routine as always?"

                "Yep.  Just make sure the door shuts completely when you leave."

                "Will do."

                The two old friends exchanged farewells, and then Jim unlocked a door and ushered Tristan inside.  When the door swung shut behind him, Tristan found himself alone in the darkness.  He remained still for a few moments, letting his eyes adjust, and then he started making his way towards one of the large, dim blocks of light that faintly illuminated the corridor.

                Climbing the concrete steps quickly, Tristan soon found himself outside once again, standing on the walkway just above the box seats.  He was surrounded by a sea of green plastic, the thousands of seats daunting in their emptiness.  He took a deep breath of the cold, crisp air, wincing slightly as it stung his nose and throat.  He moved forward slowly, a layer of snow crunching beneath his feet.  He stopped when he reached the brick wall encompassing the field, and paused a moment to brush the snow off an aisle seat before sitting down.

                The cold dampness from the snow began to seep through his coat, but Tristan ignored it.  Settling in, he closed his eyes and remembered all the times he had been here.  If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear the cheer of the crowd, the crack of the bat, and the barking voices hawking hot dogs, beer, and peanuts.

                He would always associate this place with his grandfather, and the numerous afternoons they had spent there together.  They would each get a scorecard and pencil, and meticulously kept track of every hit, out, and error.  They would eat peanuts and hot dogs—always Chicago-style—and they never came without their mitts, just in case a foul ball came their way.  That, unfortunately, never happened.

                Tristan opened his eyes, and tipped back his head to gaze at the slate-gray sky.  It was evident that more snow was on the way, and his hopes of ever making it to California were rapidly dwindling.

                On impulse, he stood up and vaulted over the low wall onto the field.  He strolled along the baseline, ducking into the dugout before proceeding to home plate.  None of the bases were actually out, but he knew he was in the right general vicinity.  Adopting a batting stance, he took a few cuts at the air.  Abandoning his "bat," Tristan strolled out to the pitcher's mound.  Scooping some snow off the ground, he patted it into a ball, drew back, and hurled it towards home.  He repeated the actions until his arm was sore and there was no snow remaining around the mound.

                The frustration and anger had been building with every snowball, and now he had reached a state of full-blown fury.  It wasn't often that he was allowed to express his anger.  His upbringing, his education, his career—all of them demanded that he remain calm, rational, never allowing emotions to rule the day.

                Tristan didn't know how much longer he could maintain the charade.  Emotions had been ruling the day ever since he re-met Rory, although he had done his best not to let it show.  Nonetheless, he was in love with her, and waking up beside her this morning had been sweet torture.  He wanted to wake up beside her every morning of every day for the rest of his life.  With an aggrieved sigh, he flopped down on the ground and pulled out his cell phone.

                A few minutes later, he heard a perky female voice chirp, "Hello?"

                "Hey Lane, it's Tristan."

                "Tristan!  Happy Thanksgiving!  How are you?  Where are you?"

                He couldn't help laughing at her rapid-fire questions.  "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.  Believe it or not, I'm at Wrigley Field."

                Her confusion came through the phone loud and clear.  "I thought you were going to California for the holidays?  And isn't baseball season over?"

                He quickly summed up the events of the last twenty-four hours, including the late-night kitchen raid and unexpected sleeping arrangements.  When he was finished, Lane asked timidly, "So, do anything, you know, _happen?"_

                "Of course not.  Even so, RJ is going to freak if he finds out."

                "I take it you're not planning on telling him?"

                "No, do you think I should?"

                "I don't know.  Like you said, nothing happened.  But still…I guess if anyone should tell him, it's Rory."

                "I suppose.  Hey, how's your Thanksgiving going?"

                "Okay.  I'm on my way to Stars Hollow right now.  The traffic sucks, but that's to be expected."

                "Will it just be you and your parents for dinner?"

                "God, I hope so.  I really don't want to spend the day fending off prospective suitors."

                "Want me to call back later with a 'medical emergency,' just in case?"

                Lane laughed.  "That would be great, Tristan.  Hey, my cell phone signal always goes out around here, so I'm going to let you go.  Wish Rory a happy Thanksgiving for me."

                "I will.  Bye Lane."

                "Bye Tristan.

*              *              *

                Rory glanced anxiously at the clock on the mantle.  It was approaching noon, and Tristan still hadn't returned.  The Macy's parade was over, and all the men of the family were crowded around the television watching football.

                Abandoning her seat by the fireplace, Rory meandering into the kitchen, where she found Ryan's mother and aunts bustling around.  Approaching carefully, Rory asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, Mrs. Salinger?"

                "Oh, no, dear, you're our guest!  We've got everything under control."  Opening the refrigerator, the older woman began looking for something, without success.  "That's odd," she murmured.  "I could have sworn there was a full jar of caviar in here…"

                Rory bit her lip to keep from giggling, knowing exactly what had happened to the caviar.

                Closing the fridge door, Mrs. Salinger yelled, "Kathleen, come here!"

                Within seconds, Ryan's younger sister, a bubbly redhead with a spark of mischief in her eyes, appeared.  "Yeah, mom?"

                "I need you to run to the store for me and pick up some beluga caviar.  Just take some cash out of my wallet before you go."

                "Sure thing."  Eyeing Rory, who looked completely out of place, she asked, "Want to keep me company?"

                Rory jumped at the opportunity.  "Definitely.  I'll go get my coat."

                A few minutes later, the two girls were in Mr. and Mrs. Salinger's Lincoln Navigator, waiting for the heater to kick in.

                "So, Rory, tell me about Tristan."

                Rory glanced at the younger girl in surprise.  "He's your brother's business partner.  Don't you already know him pretty well?"

                "We've only met once, actually, and then just for a couple minutes.  Come on, spill—RJ says you've known him forever."         

                "I wouldn't necessarily say that.  I mean, we went to school together for a little while, but that was a long time ago…  Why do you want to know?"

                Kathleen rolled her eyes as she pulled the SUV out of the driveway.  "Isn't it obvious?  He's gorgeous, successful, and single."

                This gave Rory pause.  "Oh.  I guess I just don't think about him that way.  Um, well, his family is really wealthy and influential in Hartford society, but I get the impression Tristan isn't all that close to them.  I thought he was a cocky jerk when we were in high school, but he's changed a lot since then.  You already know he's successful, which I assume is because he's really smart, and creative, and ambitious.  He's polite, and caring, and sweet—you should see him with my half-sisters—and generous."

                "Are you sure you're dating my brother and not him?" Kathleen asked, laughter in her voice.

                Rory flushed.  "Of course!  I mean, Tristan and I are just friends…"

                "I was just teasing, Rory."

                "Oh.  Right."

                "Anyway, he sounds perfect."

                "I wouldn't go _that far."_

                "Do you think I have a chance with him?  I mean, I know he's a few years older than I am, but that's okay, right?"

                Rory didn't respond right away.  "Um, I really don't know.  I mean, I don't know what his type is or anything…"

                "But he's not dating anyone right now, is he?"

                "No…"

                Kathleen flashed her a wicked grin.  "Then I'll just have to see what I can do to change that."

                Rory settled back against the plush leather upholstery, suddenly feeling slightly sick to her stomach.

*              *              *

                By the time Rory and Kathleen got back to the house, Tristan had returned.  Leaving Kathleen to deliver the caviar to the kitchen, Rory made a beeline to his side.

                "Hey," she said softly.  "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

                "Sure."  He got up from his chair and followed her into the hallway.

                Her tone was anxious as she asked him, "Are you okay?  Where were you?"

                "I went downtown, to Wrigley Field."

                Rory's eyes widened in disbelief.  "You had me worried sick for hours on end because you had some freakish urge to go to a baseball field?"

                "I left a note," he said meekly.

                "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

                Tristan smiled slyly.  "You were really worried about me?"

                "For some inexplicable reason, yes.  I thought you were hurt or…or dead.  Now I might kill you myself."

                "Touching, really.  Where did you go gallivanting off to just now?"

                "Mrs. Salinger sent me and Kathleen to the grocery store for caviar," she answered pointedly.

                He shot her a sheepish grin.  "Oops."

                "Oh, and by the way, Kathleen thinks you're quite the delectable specimen of man, so you might want to watch your back."  She spun on her heel and started to walk away, but Tristan hooked his arm around her waist and jerked her backwards against him.

                "What are you doing?" she yelped.

                "Requesting an explanation.  What's this about Kathleen?"

                She pulled out of his grasp and faced him once more.  "During our little field trip, Kathleen confided in me that she finds you very attractive, and she wanted to know if I thought she had a shot with you."

                "What did you tell her?" he asked, his voice quiet and serious.

                She met his gaze, blue eyes to blue.  "I told her I didn't know, because I'm not sure what your type is."

                Once again, she turned to walk away from him.  His soft words gave her pause: "You know what my type is, Rory," but then she continued walking.

_To be continued…_


	22. I bet you'd look pretty good from a few ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

****

AUTHOR'S NOTE—READ ME! You're not going to like this chapter, okay? But you should notice that the pairing still says **R/T…EVENTUALLY**. It's about drama, conflict…and of course, actually carrying out the entire plot as I have it outlined in my head. That might take a while. Many, many more chapters worth of a while. So **BE PATIENT**, and please do not leave reviews begging for "R/T soon!" We'll get there, folks…and I'd like to think it will be worth the wait.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I've been sick for the past four days. I'm cranky.

And this chapter's title quote is from _The Cutting Edge_, a thoroughly unrealistic yet delightfully romantic depiction of Olympic pairs figure skating.

****

Unholy Alliance

By Grace

Part Twenty-two: I bet you'd look pretty good from a few thousand miles away.

At 4:30 that afternoon, everyone gathered around the dining room table to enjoy the Thanksgiving feast. Rory found herself seated beside Ryan and directly across from Tristan, next to whom Kathleen had eagerly seated herself. Before the meal commenced, Ryan's father stood up at the head of the table.

"Would everyone please join hands and bow your heads?" he requested. When everyone had complied, he began saying grace. "Dear Lord, we thank You for this wonderful meal placed before us. It was in seeking freedom to worship You that the founders of this great nation came to these shores. It was their courage and your guidance that made it possible for all of us to be here together today. We thank you for our wonderful family, as well as the friends, both new and old, who have traveled here to share this meal. Amen."

An echoing murmur of "amen" circled the table, and then everyone seemed to erupt into conversation. Rory's eyes grew wide as a seemingly endless procession of dishes was passed around the table. There were veritable mountains of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and stuffing, not to mention cranberry sauce, three different kinds of Jell-O, salad, dinner rolls, green bean casserole, candied apples, and, of course, turkey. It wasn't long before everyone's plate was filled practically to overflowing. Tristan had almost forgotten what a traditional Thanksgiving meal was like, since he and his family had spent the last five years' worth of holidays in expensive California restaurants. He could hardly wait to dig in.

Somewhat less appetizing, however, was the attention that Kathleen Salinger was lavishing on him. After his somewhat disturbing conversation in the hallway with Rory, Tristan had returned to the living room to catch the rest of the game. His previous seat had been occupied during his absence, so he settled into a love seat. Minutes later, Kathleen had strolled into the room and settled in beside him. Despite Rory's warnings, Tristan had welcomed the company. She was actually a much-needed distraction.

Unfortunately, she had quickly worn out her welcome. While he had attempted to focus on football, she had chattered and giggled almost constantly, rarely pausing for breath. He quickly discovered that Kathleen was one of those people who talked with her hands—and her hands seemed preternaturally attracted to his arms, his knees, his hands, his thighs… Tristan had dismissed the first few affectionate touches as part of her personality, but then he started to get annoyed and uncomfortable.

Now that everyone was suitably distracted by the meal, Tristan was dismayed to learn that Kathleen had decided to step up her level of flirtation. Just as he was about to take his first bite of succulent turkey, he felt her hand settle possessively on his knee, and then begin a slow journey up his thigh. Tristan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, in hopes that she would take the hint and cease her…'exploration.' Instead, she merely tightened her grip.

Desperate, he wracked his brain for some way to divert her attention. Maybe if she thought he was involved with someone else…but whom? An idea dawned on him—he just hoped Rory didn't kill him for it.

Swallowing his turkey, Tristan began to speak in what he hoped was a casual tone. "By the way, Rory, Lane asked me to pass along her Thanksgiving wishes."

He cringed when she looked blatantly shocked. "When did you talk to Lane?"

"This morning. I asked her to join me in California this weekend." He held her gaze steady while he spoke, trying to telepathically convey that he needed her to play along.

To his immense relief, Rory nodded slowly. "Aww, that's so sweet. I presume she said yes?" When Tristan nodded his assent, she added, "She's been asking me about you lately."

"I'm not sure if that makes her brave or foolish," he chuckled. He noted happily that Kathleen had ceased caressing his leg, although she had not yet removed her hand.

"Who's Lane?" Kathleen asked somewhat coldly.

"She's Rory's best friend, and my…well, let's just say that I'm hoping to embark on a relationship with her."

The hand came off. "Oh. Rory didn't mention her at all…"

"Well, we're still in the early stages of dating."

Kathleen looked skeptical. "But she's going with you to California? What do you do after you've been dating a while?"

"The French Riviera, of course," he answered nonchalantly.

Rory coughed slightly, and Tristan was pretty sure she was stifling a laugh. "Sorry," she murmured. "The stuffing went down the wrong pipe."

RJ chose that moment to jump into the conversation. "So, you and Lane, huh, T? It's about time, if you ask me. I thought I saw sparks the first time you two met."

Tristan couldn't help noticing that Rory looked slightly disturbed by RJ's comment. "Really?" she asked. "I didn't see it coming at all."

Ryan smirked. "And people say men aren't observant."

It took a great deal of willpower for Tristan not to roll his eyes. RJ wouldn't be patting himself on the back if he was observant enough to realize that Tristan was in love with Rory.

The conversation lapsed then, and they managed to make it through the remainder of dinner relatively unscathed, for which Tristan was eminently thankful.

***

With a sigh of relief, Tristan stepped out of the house and onto the wraparound porch. The cold, crisp air was a welcome relief from the oven-like atmosphere inside. Leaning against the porch rail, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Lane's number.

After three rings, a very harried-sounding Lane answered. "Hello?"

"Dr. Kim, this is the hospital calling. Your presence is required for an, um, emergency turkey-ectomy."

"Oh, hello, Dr. DuGrey."

"Parents in the room?" he guessed.

"Yes sir. Are you sure you can't get someone else?"

"Nope. You're the only attractive young Korean doctor that I'm asking to go to California with me this weekend."

"California?" she squeaked. Hastily, she tried to cover her outburst. "The patient is from California?"

Tristan chuckled. "Here's the deal: you need an escape from your family, and I need protection from my family. Besides, you get a free trip to Napa out of the deal."

"What time is the procedure?"

"I'll have to call the airline and get back to you. My guess would be early tomorrow morning."

"Okay, I'll be there."

"I'll call you back within the hour with details."

"I'll be waiting for your call."

"Goodbye, Dr. Kim."

"Goodbye, Dr. DuGrey."

Tristan grinned as he hung up, then nearly jumped out of his skin when Rory spoke up from behind him.

"I didn't realize you were serious about dating Lane," she said softly.

"Geez, Rory, snoop much?"

"You're avoiding the subject," she accused.

"Calm down, I'm not dating her. I just thought it might be fun if she went to California with me."

"If you hurt her, Tristan…"

"Whoa, slow down." He took her by the shoulders and led her over to the Adirondack chairs. "I promise you, I have no inappropriate intentions towards Lane. I consider her my friend. We have fun together. That's all."

"So it's completely platonic?"

"Completely."

"Good."

Tristan smirked. "You seem unduly relieved. Feeling a tad jealous, Rory?"

Rory groaned. "It's reassuring to know that your ego hasn't suffered from the relationship draught you're in."

"Your compassion astounds me. I'll have you know that Kathleen Salinger was actively pursuing a relationship with me during dinner."

"Getting felt up hardly qualifies as a relationship, Tristan. I'm talking about something that's more than physical. When was the last time you had meaningful conversations and common interests with a woman?"

"You mean other than you and Lane?"

Rory had the grace to blush. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. As for when my last meaningful relationship was, let's just say it's been a while."

"Fair enough. But don't worry Tristan. I know you'll find the right woman someday."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "Look, I really need to call the airline…"

"Oh, right. I'll give you some privacy."

***

Thirty minutes later, Tristan reentered the house, rubbing his hands together in a frantic attempt to return feeling to them. He found Rory and RJ snuggled together on the love seat by the fireplace. Not surprisingly, Rory was reading a book while RJ absently stroked her hair and stared into the flames. She glanced up when Tristan entered the room. "Everything set?"

"Yeah. I just hope Lane doesn't run screaming into a vineyard once she meets my family."

"I wouldn't worry too much, " RJ commented. "Love makes it a lot easier to put up with the quirks of potential in-laws."

"I don't think they've quite reached that stage yet, honey," Rory said.

"I'm sure it won't be long before Tristan charms her right off her feet."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Tristan said. "Anyway, none of this is going to matter unless I can get out of this frozen hellhole tomorrow."

"Hey, this frozen hellhole is my hometown!" RJ protested. "And may I remind you that Hartford isn't exactly paradise?"

"Touché," Tristan conceded. "So what are you two crazy kids up to for the rest of the weekend?"

"I thought I'd give Lorelai a tour of the city," RJ replied. "I think tomorrow we'll start at the Art Institute, and maybe go up in the Sears Tower. Then, on Saturday, we can hit the Museum Campus—the Shedd Aquarium, Adler Planetarium, and the Field Museum."

"That sounds like fun. They're all great places, Rory—you'll love them."

Rory smiled softly. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

"I almost wish I could go with you—it's been a long time since I've seen Seurat's _Sunday in the Park on the Island of La Grande Jatte_."

"It sounds wonderful."

"Oh, it is, Lorelai," Ryan interjected. "Although, I've always been partial to their Monet collection."

Rory wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Actually, I've never been a big Monet fan."

"Me, either," Tristan concurred. "I always felt he was kind of overrated. Oh, but make sure you don't miss Picasso's _The Old Guitarist_."

"How did you get to be such an expert on art in Chicago?" RJ inquired, his tone just barely cordial.

"My grandfather. Wrigley Field and the Art Institute were his two favorite places in Chicago."

"You must miss him very much," Rory said softly.

He shrugged. "Holidays are always the hardest. But I don't want to depress everyone, plus I have to get up pretty early, so I think I'm going to turn in. RJ, you think I could get a couple extra blankets tonight?"

RJ leapt to his feet. "Man, I forgot to tell you. My mother nearly had my head for making you sleep on that lumpy old foldout. We have an actual bed for you tonight."

"Oh, great."

"Here, I'll show you to your room." As they mounted the steps, RJ commented, "I don't know how you managed to get _any_ sleep last night."

Tristan sneaked a quick glance at Rory, then said, "Don't worry, I managed."

***

Tristan groaned and rolled over in bed, craning to see the clock. 6:29. He hated when he did that. It's not like the one additional minute until the alarm went off would make _that_ much of a difference—it was the principle of the thing.

Not wanting to wake up the rest of the household for no reason, he switched off the alarm and crawled out of bed, shivering when the cold air washed over him. Grabbing his toiletry bag and robe, he headed for the bathroom.

When he stepped into the hallway, Tristan was assaulted by the scent of coffee brewing and bacon frying. He couldn't fathom who else would be up already, so he let curiosity be his guide and headed downstairs. He was stunned to discover that RJ was the mystery chef.

"Hey buddy, what're you doing?" he asked.

RJ nearly dropped his spatula. "Jesus, Tristan, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. So how come you're up so early? I mean, the farewell breakfast is sweet, but you really didn't have to…"

"Cute, DuGrey. If you must know, I thought Lorelai might enjoy breakfast in bed."

Tristan strolled closer to his friend, taking in the freshly squeezed orange juice, the strawberry crepes lightly dusted with powdered sugar, and the small, black velvet box nestled in the corner of the breakfast tray.

Swallowing the bile that had suddenly risen in his throat, Tristan managed to choke out, "That doesn't look like breakfast sausage."

RJ chuckled. "Go ahead, check it out. I think even you will approve."

Grateful that his hands didn't appear to be trembling, Tristan picked up the menacing little box and flipped open the lid. His breath caught at the sight of the one-carat diamond solitaire winking up at him. "Wow. That's an engagement ring."

RJ gave him a funny look. "What were you expecting, my high school class ring?"

"No, I just…I didn't realize you and Rory had reached the proposal stage."

"Yeah, it surprised me too. I mean, I never really saw myself as the settling-down type, but Lorelai's great, you know? Do you think she'll like the ring?"

"It's a beautiful ring," Tristan responded neutrally. _Of course, if you knew anything about her, you'd realize she doesn't like diamonds and wanted an opal engagement ring._

"I know," RJ responded, somewhat smugly in Tristan's opinion. "What woman would say 'no' to that?"

_With a little luck, Rory will._ "I can't even imagine, RJ. Look, I have to go get ready if I'm going to make my flight. Good luck with the proposal."

"Thanks, man. Hey, you'll be my best man, right?"

Tristan forced a smile. "How about I let you know after she says yes?"

"Fair enough. Listen, if I don't see you again, have fun in California. Oh, and give my best to Lane. Hey, wouldn't it be perfect if the best man and the maid of honor were dating?" As RJ rambled on, Tristan made a break for the stairs.

***

Forty minutes later, Tristan was showered, shaved, packed, and ready to go. He heard his cab honk outside, so he grabbed his suitcase and carry-on and headed down the hall. His steps slowed as he passed Rory's room. The door was slightly open, and he couldn't stop himself from listening to what was going on inside.

His heart broke when he heard RJ say, "Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, will you marry me?"

Before he heard her answer, Tristan bolted down the stairs and out the front door.

__

To be continued…


	23. Fate, it seems, is not without a sense o...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note:  This chapter's title quote is from _The Matrix._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-three: Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.

Lane glanced around anxiously as she entered the baggage claim area.  It only took her a few moments to pick out Tristan's blonde head in the crowd.  Her target acquired, she headed eagerly in his direction, only to draw up short when she noticed his morose expression.

                "I wasn't expecting a parade, but you could at least look a _little happy to see me," she chided gently._

                He flashed her a tight smile.  "Sorry.  Could you do me a favor and check your voice mail?"

                "Um, okay."  She pulled out her cell phone and keyed in the appropriate code.  She was slightly surprised that there was, in fact, a message waiting.

                "Lane, it's Rory.  Oh my God, Ryan proposed to me this morning!  I don't know what to do!  Call me as soon as you get this message.  Oh, and please don't mention this to Tristan.  Bye."

                Lane hung up the phone, her expression stunned.  "I take it you have some idea as to the content of that message?" she inquired.

                He nodded somberly.  "Rory and RJ are engaged."

                "Not exactly," she said hesitantly.  "He proposed, yes, but I don't think she's actually told him yes or no yet."

                A shadow of hope crossed his face.  "That's a good sign, right?"  His voice took on an excited pitch.  "I mean, if she was madly in love with him, she would have said yes right away, wouldn't she?"

                "Calm down, sparky.  I'm not exactly sure _what it means.  You have to understand, Tristan, that Gilmore women don't always run towards commitment with open arms.  She and Ryan have only been together for what, three months?  All she said was that she didn't know what to do.  She hasn't told him no."_

                Tristan made a face.  "You're so encouraging.  And how did you manage to get all that from such a short message?"

                She shot him a disdainful look.  "Do you _know how long I've known Rory?"_

                "Right, right.  So now what?"

                "For starters, let's get out of this airport.  They all have this…smell.  I think it's the jet fuel."

                "Okay, but what about your luggage?"

                Lane flushed.  "Oh.  That.  Sorry, this whole proposal thing kind of threw me off guard."

                He chuckled softly.  "Glad to know I'm not the only one."

                "Ooh, there's my suitcase!"

                Tristan easily lifted it off the conveyor, and the two of them headed for the exit.  "How was your flight?" he asked.

                "Not bad.  It's actually been a while since I flew, and it was both depressing and reassuring to discover that airplane food still sucks."

                "I suppose there is comfort in continuity."

                "Look, Tristan, I appreciate the attempt at small talk, but we may as well finish the Rory conversation so that we can enjoy the rest of the weekend."

                "I guess you're right, although I'm not really sure what we're supposed to talk about."

                They had reached Tristan's rental car, and Lane slipped into the passenger seat before answering.  "What are you going to do about all this?  Rory may be confused right now, but sooner or later she's going to give Ryan an answer.  He's a good man, and she loves him.  If he tells her what she needs to hear, she just might be convinced that they can have a happy life together."

                He eased carefully out of the parking space and headed for the lot exit.  "You think I don't know that already?"

                "Of course you do.  But are you going to stand by and let it happen, or are you going to try and do something?"

                "What can I do?  I can't force Rory to love me."

                "No, you can't.  But don't you think she should know that you love her?"

                He sighed dejectedly.  "I won't put her in that position, Lane.  If Rory loves RJ and is happy with him, I will not stand in the way."

                "Wow, you're being nauseatingly noble about this."

                "Disgusting, isn't it?"

                "I know you're trying to be fair to Rory, but what about what's fair to you?"

                "Don't worry about me.  I'll manage."

                "But maybe you shouldn't have to," Lane answered softly.

*              *              *

                "Hello?"

                "Mom?"

                "Rory!  How are you sweetie?  How's Chicago?"

                "I'm okay, and Chicago is good.  How was your Thanksgiving?"

                "Oh, you know, the usual.  It's always entertaining to put your grandmother, Luke, and Jess in the same room."

                "Ryan proposed," Rory blurted out.

                "And then Miss Patty stopped by…I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

                "Ryan proposed.  To me.  This morning."

                "Oh my God!" Lorelai screeched.  "You're engaged?"

                "Well, no.  I told him I needed some time to think it over."

                "Hmm."

                "What's that supposed to mean?" Rory asked defensively.

                "Nothing!  I just…well, it reminds me of Max, that's all."

                "Ryan and I are nothing like you and Max!"

                "I know, I know.  Do you love him?"

                "Of course!"

                "Good.  I'm sure you'll make the right decision, sweetie."

                "Mom, what do you think is the right decision?"

                "I don't think I can tell you that.  Bye, hon."

                Before Rory had a chance to respond, Lorelai hung up, and she was left staring at the phone in disbelief.

*              *              *

                Tristan was pulling the car off the highway when his cell phone rang.  "Hello?"

                "Did you know he proposed?  What are you going to do about it?"

                "Lorelai?"

                "Yes!  Now answer the question—do you have a plan to stop my daughter from making the biggest mistake of her life?"

                He felt a rush of panic surge up in him.  "She hasn't said yes, has she?"

                "Not yet, but I have a sinking feeling that it's only a matter of time.  I managed to plant a seed of doubt, but I think it's going to be up to you to do the rest."

                "What makes you think I can do anything?"

                "You love her, don't you?"

                "Yes, but…"

                "It's a powerful emotion, Tristan.  Just think about it."  Then she hung up on him.

                He looked over at Lane in confusion.  "I take it Lorelai heard the news?" she asked.

                He nodded.  "She seems to be operating under the same deluded impression you are that I can influence her decision."

                "If anyone would know, it's Lorelai."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Let's just say that Rory isn't the only Gilmore woman that has been completely oblivious to the love of a good man."

                "How so?"

                "Luke was head over heels for Lorelai for years before she finally got a clue.  Everybody and their brother was telling her that he had a thing for her, but she just wouldn't hear it.  She even went so far as to get engaged to someone else at one point.  You might remember him—he was one of the teachers at Chilton.  Max something."

                "Mr. Medina?"

                "That sounds right.  Anyway, Ryan and Rory's relationship reminds me a lot of Max and Lorelai's.  To an outsider, he seemed like the perfect guy for her—handsome, charming, and completely crazy about her.  But it just wasn't right.  Fortunately, Lorelai figured that out before they actually tied the knot, and called it off.  She managed to move on pretty easily, which proved she made the right choice.  On the other hand, she and Luke had an awful fight one time and didn't speak for a couple months.  This was long before they ever started dating, but Lorelai was beside herself.  She was completely miserable without Luke in her life, even as just a friend."

                "So what are you saying, that I should pick a fight with Rory, stop talking to her, and hope the same thing happens?"

                "Of course not.  But maybe if Rory thought she was losing you, say to another woman, she might realize what you mean to her."

                "But what if I don't mean that much to her?"

                "At least then you'd know."

                "I don't know, Lane—don't you think that all sounds a little, I don't know, high school?"

                "Maturity is overrated.  Besides, there's the other small problem of finding you a woman to go along with the scheme."

                "That reminds me, there's something you should probably know."

                "Okay, that's just never a good sentence."

                "Sorry. It's just that, um, RJ and his entire extended family sort of think that you and I are, um, dating."

                "What?"

                Quickly, he explained the awkward situation with Kathleen, and how he had used their fabricated relationship to get her to stop molesting him.  He finished up by saying, "Don't worry, Rory knows the truth.  RJ, on the other hand, thinks we make a cute couple and that he saw it coming."

                Lane snorted.  "Ryan's delusional, but this just might work to our advantage."

                "How?"

                "Between the two of us, I think we may be able to convince Rory that she's missing out on something great with you."

                Tristan groaned.  "I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what exactly do you have in mind?"

                Eagerly, Lane began to outline her plan…

*              *              *

                Paris ambled into the Gilmore-Danes kitchen, her hand resting gently on the swell of her stomach.  She and Jess had decided to extend Thanksgiving into a four-day visit to Stars Hollow, and they had spent the night at Luke and Lorelai's.

                "Morning, Lorelai," she greeted the older woman.

                Lorelai looked up from the morning paper and smiled.  "Just the person I was waiting to see!"

                Paris eyed her warily.  "You're not going to try and convince me that going shopping the day after Thanksgiving is a good idea, are you?  Because I really don't think I'm up to it."

                "No, I'm plotting insanity of a different kind."

                The blonde sighed and sat down.  "Before you start, where are Luke and Jess?  I might need reinforcements in logic and reason."

                "Ha-ha.  Luke's at the diner, and he asked Jess to give him a hand with the morning rush of post-Turkey Day shoppers."

                "I guess I'm on my own, then.  Enlighten me as to your latest scheme."

                "Technically, it's not a full-grown scheme yet.  It's more of a scheme seed.  I wonder if Burpee ever tried to market those?  Can't you just see a lush, green garden of ripening schemes, just waiting…"

                "Lorelai," Paris said sharply.  "Topic."

                Lorelai pouted briefly.  "Fine.  We seem to have a minor crisis on our hands.  Ryan proposed to Rory this morning."

                Paris nearly spit out the bite of Pop-Tart she had been chewing on.  "He _what?  They've only been dating a few months!  It took me years to get Jess to propose!"_

                "You're kind of missing the point here."

                "Did she accept?"

                "Not exactly."

                "She said no?!" Paris was obviously shocked.

                "Not exactly.  She told him she needed some time to consider it."

                "I suppose that's a good sign."

                "It's a starting point, but not much more."

                "Can I ask you something, Lorelai?"

                "Fire away."

                "Do you dislike Ryan for some reason?"

                "No!  Of course not.  He seems like a very nice guy.  If Rory does decide to marry him, it won't be the worst thing she could do."

                "Then why are you so adamant about stopping it from happening, if Rory seems happy?"

                Lorelai's expression was sober.  "Because I also don't think it's the best thing she could do."

                "But how do you _know?"_

                "Mother's instinct.  Experience.  Pick one."

                "You believe Tristan is what's best for her?"

                "That I do."

                "Why?"

                "Because I've looked in his eyes, and I can see that he loves her in a way that Ryan will never be capable of.  Ryan doesn't have that kind of passion.  Rory's a Gilmore.  She needs passion."

                "She's your daughter," Paris replied with a hint of skepticism.

                "Do _you think Ryan is the right man for Rory?"_

                Paris shook her head.  "No—but I don't know why."

                "Trust your instincts.  It will serve you well as a mother."

                "You sound like Obi-Wan Kenobi."

                "Yes, my young apprentice," Lorelai intoned.

                "Maybe it's just because I have a soft spot for Tristan, but I can't help agreeing with you.  He and Rory could be amazing together."

                "Now how do we convince her of that?"

                Paris pursed her lips.  "Does Tristan know about the proposal?"

                Lorelai nodded. "I called him earlier this morning, and he didn't seem too surprised.  I have a feeling there's a part of the story we're missing."

                "Hold on.  Rory's in Chicago, right?"  When Lorelai nodded, she continued.  "Tristan is in California.  I highly doubt Rory called him with the good news.  So how did he know?"

                "I think that's a question we're going to have to as Mr. DuGrey."

                Paris leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful.  "Do you think Lane might have some insight on all this?"

                "She might.  I think she's in town, at her parents'.  Let's give her a call."

                Lane answered after two rings. "Hello?"

                "Hey hon, it's Lorelai.  Paris and I are having a pow-wow over at the house.  Care to join us?"

                "I don't think that would work."

                "Why not?"

                "Because I'm in California.  With Tristan."

                Lorelai's jaw dropped.  "It's official.  The whole world has gone mad."

_To be continued…_


	24. …this isn’t mission difficult, it’s miss...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

And this chapter's title quote is from _Mission: Impossible II, a thoroughly implausible but delightfully entertaining action-filled romp.._

**Unholy Alliance**

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-four: …this isn't mission difficult, it's mission impossible.  "Difficult" should be a walk in the park for you.

                "What are you doing in California with Tristan?" Lorelai yelped.

                "He invited me," Lane replied.  "It seemed like a better option than hanging out with Mama and Pap Kim."

                "Hmm. I guess that's true," Lorelai conceded.  "I take it you're up to speed on the Rory-Ryan-proposal fiasco, then?"

                "Even if I wasn't before, I heard you squawking on the phone with Tristan earlier."

                "A Gilmore never squawks."

                "Whatever, Lorelai."

                "You're losing sight of the bigger picture, Lane.  Your impromptu vacation with Tristan might actually work to our advantage."

                "That sounds ominous."

                "Why does everyone doubt one?" whined Lorelai.

                "Because you're mentally unstable?"

                "Hmph.  My mental health notwithstanding, you can't possibly think that Rory marrying Ryan is an ideal situation."

                "No, I don't.  Rest assured, I'm trying my best to convince Tristan that we need to be proactive about this."

                "Any luck so far?"

                "Apparently, certain parties—Rory not being one of them—think that Tristan and I are a couple.  I was thinking that we might be able to convince your daughter of the same thing."

                "Ooh, classic!  The jealousy card is always a good route to take."

                "Has anyone considered just _talking to Rory?" Paris unexpectedly piped up._

                Lorelai covered the mouthpiece with her hand.  "Such a poor, misguided, Hartford high-society lady you are.  Straightforward honesty is always a last resort in Stars Hollow."

                "And no one questions that policy?"

                "Well, Luke does sometimes, but we chalk it up to his being a grump."

                "Lovely.  I think I'm going to go to the grump's diner and visit my husband while you continue your juvenile plotting."

                "Fine, go!"  Lorelai turned her attention back to the phone.  "You know what annoys me?  When boring, rational people are right."

                Lane laughed.  "It must be something in the Hartford water.  Tristan thinks that convincing Rory to fall for him via subterfuge is a bad idea, too."  She paused.  "Actually, when I put it that way, I'm not so keen on the plan, either."

                Lorelai groaned.  "Don't bail on me, too!"

                "Look, Lorelai, I gotta go.  I need to think this over for a while."

                She hung up abruptly, and Lorelai was left staring at the phone.  "How rude," she mumbled.

*              *              *

                Paris waddled into the diner, happily inhaling the comforting scents of bacon frying and coffee brewing.  Luke was stationed behind the counter, his customary flannel shirt and backward baseball cap firmly in place.  Also as per usual, he was arguing with Taylor.

                "For the last time, no!  I don't care what stupid proclamation the town council has passed—I'm not putting a light-up plastic Santa in my window!"

                "That's just fine, Luke.  You'll once again be the lone black hole in our town's galaxy of Christmas spirit."

                "Spare me the metaphors, Taylor.  The only reason anyone abides by these stupid proclamations of yours is because you threaten them!  Well, I'm not having it.  Now get out!"

                "I'm warning you, Luke," Taylor declared, wagging a finger.  "This year, the town council isn't just going to sit idly by while you flout our regulations."

                "Well, you just tell the town council that from now on they can eat at Al's Pancake World.  Luke's diner is officially exercising its right to refuse service."

                "You haven't heard the last of this, Luke Danes!" Taylor announced as he exited the diner.

                "That's because you never shut up!" Luke shouted after him.  Finished with his tirade, he finally noticed the presence of his nephew's wife.  "Oh, hey, Paris.  Can I get you something?"

                She nodded and took a seat at the counter.  "Yes, may I have some scrambled eggs, toast, and a mug of hot tea?"

                "Coming right up.  Want me to go get Jess?"

                "No, he'll wander out eventually.  I'll just people-watch for a little while."

                "Suit yourself."  He wandered off to tend to his other customers.

                Paris glanced around the diner, picking out the faces she recognized.  Kirk was eating alone at a small table by the window, while Babette and Miss Patty were gossiping over cups of coffee.  Only a scant five minutes had passed when she heard the clink of dishes behind her, and Paris swiveled in her stool to find Jess smiling at her from across the counter.

                "Morning, sleepyhead," he said, leaning over to brush a kiss across her forehead.  "I didn't expect to see you here."

                "I just needed to find some peace and quiet."

                He quirked a half smile at her.  "So you came here just in time to see Uncle Luke fight with Taylor?"

                Paris chuckled.  "It was actually a nice change of pace from listening to Lorelai plot how to keep Rory from marrying Ryan."

                "I didn't realize that was an immediate concern."

                "It wasn't, until Ryan proposed this morning."

                Jess' eyebrows shot up.  "That was quick.  Did Rory accept?"

                "Not yet.  She's still thinking it over."

                "Hmm.  That doesn't exactly scream 'undying love,' does it?"

                "That it doesn't.  Still, I don't agree that the best way to handle this is by scheming to somehow trick Rory into falling for Tristan."

                Before Jess had a chance to respond, Lorelai burst into the diner.  "Luke!" she bellowed.  "Coffee!"

                Several seconds later, the man in question appeared from the kitchen.  "Lovely to see you too, dear," he said dryly.

                She scowled.  "This is not the morning to mess with me buster.  You might find yourself sharing a bed with Billy tonight."

                Luke turned to Paris and Jess.  "Can't you just feel the love?"

                "I think she might be serious, Uncle Luke.  Ryan proposed to Rory this morning."

                Luke's face darkened like a thundercloud.  "The little punk did _what?  How long have they been dating?  Five minutes?  Did he ask anyone for her hand in marriage?  What do we know about this kid, anyway?"_

                Unexpectedly, Lorelai grinned.  "Easy there, Papa Bear.  If it makes you feel any better, she hasn't said yes…yet."

                "Well, good!" he blustered.  "Now call her up, talk some sense into her—I'll even let you use a cell phone in here."

                Paris groaned loudly.  "Has everyone taken leave of their senses?  Rory is an _adult.  She gets to make her own decisions, regardless of whether or not we agree with them.  At any rate, if Rory is anything like her mother," she shot a pointed glance at Lorelai, "the more we plot and scheme and try to trick her into doing what we want, the less likely she is to do it."_

                Lorelai looked over at Jess.  "Doesn't her unerring rationale ever make you want to scream?"

                "Only at appropriate times," he joked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

                "Jess!" Paris cried, flushing bright red.

                "Yeah, kinda like that," he smirked.

                "As entertaining as humiliating Paris is," Luke began, "we have a more pressing issue at hand."

                "I agree," piped up Lorelai.  "Even if we do decide that a _Mission: Impossible approach isn't best, don't you think we should at least let Rory know how we feel about this?  Or more importantly, how Tristan feels about her?"_

                "I really don't think it's our place to tell her about Tristan," Paris protested.  "If he wants her to know, he needs to be the one to tell her."

                "I agree," Luke said, while Jess nodded.

                Paris looked at Lorelai, who pouted, but then grudgingly nodded her head.

                "Then we're agreed," Paris continued.  "Now, if we _do talk to Rory, what do we want to say?  Other than thinking she belongs with Tristan, what reasons do we have for not wanting her to marry Ryan?"_

                The four of them sat in silence, pondering her question.

*              *              *

                Hand in hand, Rory and Ryan strolled through the Art Institute of Chicago.  Rory was completely enchanted by the experience.  Upon seeing the majestic stone lions outside for the first time, she had insisted that the two of them have their picture taken beside one of them.

                Once inside, they had immediately gone upstairs to Gustave Caillebotte's _Paris Street Rainy Day, and then strolled through the museum's rather extensive Monet collection, at Ryan's insistence.  Rory had gasped in delight upon seeing Seurat's masterpiece, and stared with awed appreciation at Picasso's __The Old Guitarist.  Now, as they meandered through the galleries of medieval religious art, Rory paused and asked, "Ryan, why do you want to marry me?"_

                He stared at her in surprise.  "Because I love you, Lorelai.  I thought that was obvious."

                "I know you love me, and I love you too.  But why do you want to marry me?"

                "Because when I picture my future, I can picture you in it.  I know we can be happy together."

                She smiled, a bit sadly.  "I can picture my future with you, too."  _But I can also picture my future without you, she thought to herself._

                "Are you okay, Lorelai?"

                "I'm fine, Ryan.  You…you're not mad that I couldn't give you an answer right away, are you?"

                "Of course not.  But…do you have an answer for me now?"

                She shook her head.  "I'm sorry.  When I said I needed some time to think, I meant more than a few hours."

                Ryan chuckled.  "Fair enough.  Since we're asking tough questions, though, I have one for you.  Why do you need time to think about it?"

                "I just do.  I didn't exactly grow up in the traditional nuclear family.  My mom did pretty well for herself for a long time without being married.  She waited years to get married—waited until she was positive she was with the right guy.  I need to feel as sure as she did about Luke."

                His expression was slightly hurt.  "And you don't feel sure about me?"

                "Not yet.  I'm sorry, Ryan.  That's not to say I never will feel sure about you.  I just need time.  We haven't been together all that long.  Do you understand?"

                "I don't have much choice, do I?"

                "I'm sorry, Ryan."

                "You don't need to be sorry, Lorelai.  You just need to say yes."

                "I'm working on that."

*              *              *

                Lane's eyes widened at Tristan pulled the car up to a magnificent resort.  "This is beautiful," she breathed.

                "Wait until you see the inside."

                "If I don't remember to say it again this weekend, thank you so much for bringing me here."

                He grinned widely at her.  "Believe me, I'm happy to have you here.  Now, are you ready to meet my oh-so-charming family?"

                "Ready as I'll ever be.  They're going to hate me, aren't they?"

                "Doubtful.  It's me they're not so fond of."

                "So who will I be meeting?"

                "My parents, of course—Philippe and Sandra DuGrey.  Then there's my younger sister, Natalie.  She's the most normal one of the bunch, and we get along pretty well.  My aunt and uncle will be there as well—my dad's sister Felicity and her husband Jacob.  They have four kids.  Susanne and Cassidy are twins, two years older than we are.  Andrew is our age, and Simon just turned eighteen, which is an utterly terrifying concept."

                "There's not going to be a quiz later, is there?" Lane asked worriedly.

                "No, that's tomorrow," he teased.

                "You're so encouraging," she sighed.

                "Come on—we should get checked in."

                "Lead the way."

                Fifteen minutes later, Lane stood at the threshold of their bungalow, mouth agape.  "This is unbelievable!" she squealed.  "If this is the lifestyle I could become accustomed to, maybe you and I _should start dating."_

                "I'm glad you like it.  Honestly, though, all the fancy accoutrements can't begin to compare to having a friend here with me."

                Impulsively, she hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  "You're too sweet!  Rory would be crazy to choose RJ over you."

                Instantly, his expression sobered.  "Doesn't crazy kind of run in her family?" he joked.

                "Well, yeah…"

                "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

                "Not yet.  Now come on, we're going to enjoy this vacation if it kills us.  Why don't you give your family a call?"

                "I thought you wanted to enjoy this vacation?"

                "Tristan…"

                "Lane…" he sighed.  "Fine."  Picking up the phone, he dialed the front desk.  "Yes, could you please connect me with Mr. and Mrs. Philippe DuGrey's room?  Thank you."

                After a moment, Lane heard him say, "Natalie?  It's your big brother."

                "Yes, I'm finally here."

                "I couldn't help it, Nat!  Blame the weather, if you must.  How's it been going so far?"

                He chuckled slightly.  "That good, huh?"

                "What bungalow are you guys in?"

                "Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes."

                Hanging up the phone, Tristan turned his attention back to Lane.  "Apparently, the entire crew is gathered at my parents' bungalow."  He offered her an arm.  "Shall we?"

                "By all means."

                It took them almost ten minutes to navigate the sprawling grounds en route to where Tristan's family was staying.  As they were walking, a thought suddenly occurred to Lane.  "Does your family know I'm here with you?" she asked.

                He ducked his head sheepishly.  "Not exactly."

                "And the reason for that would be what, exactly?"

                "Well, for one thing, I try not to communicate with my family unless it's absolutely necessary, and the decision to bring you along was pretty spur-of-the-moment.  Besides, it's much more entertaining to surprise them with things like this."

                She groaned and leaned her head against his shoulder.  "I'm telling you, they're going to hate me."

                Tristan patted her on the hand.  "And I'm telling you they're not.  Now come on, we're here."

                Lane waited nervously as Tristan knocked on the door.  When it finally swung open, she found herself face-to-face with the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

To be continued… 


	25. Oh, you poor, sad multimillionaire I fe...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Notes: First off, let me apologize yet again for taking so long to update this story.  I hadn't realized just how much time had elapsed.  Obviously, with the holidays, things were hectic for a while.  I was also spending quite a bit of time working on _Proud & Prejudiced_, the elite GG fic archive I maintain (with my fantastic e-board!).  Check it out at http://www.fanshoot.com/proudandprejudiced

Now that it's been Thanksgiving weekend in the story for a full seven chapters, I expect the action to speed up a bit.  For those of you eagerly awaiting "Trory goodness," please be patient.  At the very least, I will attempt to update more regularly.

This chapter is dedicated to my beloved P&P buddies—Roxy, Chris, Jessica S, Laine, Priya, emrie, Miya, Trixie, Ash, Liza, Kay, Nate, and Jamie.  Y'all rock.

Finally, this chapter's title quote is from _You've Got Mail, which, while vastly inferior to _Sleepless in Seattle_, is still a lovely little chick flick that seems to improve each time I watch it._

**Unholy Alliance**

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-five: Oh, you poor, sad multimillionaire.  I feel so sorry for you.

                "Hey, Andy," Tristan casually greeted the mysterious Adonis.  "Lane, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Andrew Courtland.  Andy, this is my friend, Dr. Lane Kim."

                "Tristan never mentioned that he was bringing such a lovely companion," Andrew said smoothly.  "Actually, he didn't say he was bringing a companion at all."  He grasped her hand lightly and raised it to his lips in a fluid motion.  "The pleasure is mine, Dr. Kim."

                She giggled somewhat inanely, the result of an adolescence somewhat underexposed to males.  "Please, call me Lane."

                "Of course, Lane.  Call me Andy.  Now, why don't you come in?  I'm sure the entire family will be thrilled to meet you."

                As Lane and Tristan trailed behind him into the spacious, elegant bungalow, she murmured, "I see that charm runs in the family."

                Tristan smirked at her.  "Would you expect anything else?"

                Before she had a chance to reply, they entered a large sitting room filled with people.  Suddenly self-conscious, Lane froze.  She felt like she had wandered into an old episode of _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous_.  The women were all perfectly coiffed, jewels sparkling at their ears, necks, and wrists, their clothing obviously professionally tailored and expensive.  The men all sported lightweight suits, sans ties, their jackets casually unbuttoned.

                And here she stood, in a pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved red shirt, looking for all the world like a lost urchin or the hired help.  Her heart pounding, she managed to plaster a smile on her face.

                "Tristan, darling, who is your friend?" one of the older women asked, her tone cultured and clipped.

                "Mother, I'd like to introduce Dr. Lane Kim.  She's a first-year resident, and a very good friend of mine."

                "Delighted," Sandra DuGrey drawled, extending one lily-white, carefully manicured hand.

                Lane tentatively gripped it, murmuring, "Likewise."

                An older gentleman, clearly Tristan's father, stood up and said in a booming voice, "A doctor, eh, Tris?  That's certainly an improvement over the last nymphet.  What was she?  An exotic dancer?"

                "A cocktail waitress, Father," Tristan said tightly.  "And Lane and I are just friends."

                Mrs. DuGrey sighed mournfully.  "Tristan, _when_ are you going to settle down and find a nice girl?  The DuGrey line _must _be continued."

                Much to Lane's relief, Andrew cut smoothly into the conversation.  "Lane, may I offer you a mimosa?  Or perhaps a shot of vodka?  DuGrey family functions tend to require alcohol."

                She smiled gratefully and moved closer to him.  "A mimosa would be lovely.  Sadly, alcohol is strictly taboo at Kim events.  This will be like paradise."

                He chuckled.  "Touché.  So, how did you become acquainted with my delinquent cousin?"

                "My best friend's magazine currently has a business partnership with Tristan's company.  Actually, he and Rory went to high school together for about a year, too."

                "Rory?"

                "My best friend."

                "Of course.  He didn't meet her at military school, did he?" Andy joked.

                Lane grinned.  "No, she transferred to Chilton her sophomore year, and they met there."

                "Too bad—it's always entertaining to bring up Tristan's tenure as the family black sheep."

                "Doesn't he hold the crown any longer?"

                Andy smiled sheepishly.  "No, I ascended that throne when I shocked the family by majoring in journalism."

                "What's wrong with journalism?"

                "Nothing, if you come from a normal family.  The DuGreys, however, don't view the press as having a particularly stellar position in society."

                "That's ridiculous!"

                "Isn't it though?" Tristan commented, joining the conversation.  "I see Andy's already trying to gain sympathy for being a poor, misguided reporter."

                "Managed to escape your parents' clutches already, old boy?  You must have been practicing."

                Tristan smirked.  "This isn't the first time this weekend I've had to get away from some unwanted attention."

                "What do you mean?"

                He gave Andy a quick synopsis of dinner with Kathleen Salinger, a story which had his cousin clutching his sides with laughter.

                The humor was cut short when Tristan's father walked over.  "Son, surely you didn't fly all the way across the country just to be anti-social?  I know we taught you better manners than that."

                Lane noted the tension that immediately stiffened Tristan's body.  "Of course, Father.  We'll be right over."

*              *              *

                Lake Forest Hospital was pretty much like every other hospital Rory had been in—only more opulent.  Rather than the typical bile-green paint, the walls were papered with an elegant floral print in shades of burgundy and hunter green.  A path of green tiles ran down the center of the hallway, discreetly leading visitors to the patient areas.

                The smell, however, was exactly the same—antiseptic and slightly stale.  Rory firmly grasped Ryan's hand, knowing how difficult it was for him to see his grandfather this way.

                The old man had been sleeping since they arrived, and they were loathe to wake him up, knowing how little peace and rest he was able to get each day.  Now, though, his eyes began to flutter open.

                "Hi, Grandpa," Ryan said quietly.

                "Ryan!  I didn't expect to see you today.  And who is this beautiful young lady?"

                "This is my girlfriend, Lorelai Gilmore.  She's the one I've told you about."

                His grandfather gave a rusty chuckle.  "Of course, of course.  It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gilmore."

                "The pleasure is mine, sir.  Please, call me Rory."

                "Okay, Rory.  So how is it that you've managed to tame my wayward grandson?"

                Rory blushed.  "I'm sure I haven't done anything.  Ryan has been a perfect gentleman since the day we met."

                His bushy white eyebrows shot up.  "Oh, really?  Funny, those aren't the stories _I've _heard over the years.  You and I will have to compare notes someday."

                It was Ryan's turn to blush.  "Grandpa, I'm sure Lorelai doesn't want to hear boring stories about me."

                "On the contrary, Ryan, I'd love to hear stories about your misspent youth," Rory said with a chuckle.

                "I can see why my grandson likes you.  I don't suppose there's any chance you'll be giving me a great-grandchild before I dies?  Or at least a wedding?"

                "I'm working on that, Grandpa.  Lorelai still needs a little convincing."

                "Then she's more astute than more young women her age.  Most girls these days take one look at a diamond and fall all over themselves racing to the altar.  Marriage is not something to be rushed into."

                Rory smiled gratefully.  Ryan had been subtly pressuring her all day to make up her mind quickly, and it was a relief to encounter someone who understood and agreed with how she felt.

                "I'm sure that when the time is right, you'll make the correct decision, young lady."

                "I hope so, sir."

                "Now, tell me all about Thanksgiving dinner.  What kind of mischief did the family stir up this year?"

                Relieved that the conversation was being steered away from marriage, Rory relaxed as Ryan launched into an account of the previous day's festivities.

*              *              *

                Sitting on an overstuffed sofa, sandwiched between Andy and Tristan, Lane took a tentative sip of her mimosa.  Conversation among the DuGreys had thus far been stilted and awkward, to the point that she almost missed her mother's religious diatribes.

                "So, Lane, where are you doing your residency?" Tristan's mother suddenly asked.

                "At Beth Israel.  I worked there as a medical student, and they hired me on full-time after graduation."

                Andrew looked at her with interest.  "I didn't realize you were living in Boston," he commented.  "I've been working at the _Globe for just over a year.  We'll have to get together sometime."_

                "I'd like that," Lane said warmly.

                As she and Andy began discussing the finer points of Beantown, Phillippe DuGrey focused his attention on his son.  "How's business these days, Tristan?"

                "Things are going quite well, Father.  Right now we're gearing up to launch an Internet version of a local magazine."

                "Is that so?  Which one?"

                "The _Hartford_ Harbinger_."_

                "That's a fine up-and-coming publication, son.  How did you manage to land the account?"

                _Damned with faint praise yet again, Tristan thought.  "It was founded by two of my old Chilton classmates.  You remember Paris Gellar, don't you?"_

                "Of course, of course.  Tragic what happened to her parents.  It's good to know she's doing something with her life."

                Tristan bristled.  "As opposed to me, you mean?"

                "Now, darling, your father didn't say that," Sandra DuGrey said soothingly.

                "He didn't have to," Tristan said bitterly.  "It's no secret what he thinks of me and my life.  You're never going to forgive me for not following in your footsteps, are you dad?"

                "That's enough," Phillippe said sharply.  "We are supposed to be having a pleasant day as a family.  Moreover, you have a guest.  This is neither the time…"

                Tristan cut him off.  "Spare me.  First of all, there hasn't been a DuGrey family party without a screaming match for at least twenty years.  Second, Lane is more like family to me than you will ever be.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's someplace I need to be."

                Lane immediately jumped to her feet and, shooting an apologetic look at Andy, followed Tristan out of the bungalow.  They had made it twenty feet down the path when the door behind them banged open, and a blonde whirlwind came hurtling towards them.

                "Tristan, wait!" yelled Natalie DuGrey.

                He stopped, and allowed his sister to embrace him tightly.  "I love you, big brother, and don't you ever forget it," she whispered.

                He kissed the top of her head.  "I love you too, Nat.  I'm sorry about what happened in there.  I hate putting you in the middle like this."

                She pulled back and stared straight into his eyes.  "There's no middle, Tristan, and you know it.  You and me against the world, remember?"

                He smiled gently.  "I remember."

                "Where are you guys staying?  I'll try and see if Andy and I can sneak over later."

                Tristan told her their bungalow number, gave her another hug and kiss, and sent her on her way.  When Natalie was gone, Lane took him by the hand and asked, "Are you okay?"

                He shrugged.  "I will be.  It's not like it's anything new."

                "I'm sorry, Tristan."

                "It's not your fault."

                "I know.  I just wish there was something I could do."

                He squeezed her hand.  "You're here.  That's enough."

                Hand-in-hand, they walked back to their bungalow in companionable silence.  Once they were inside, Lane commented, "Well, that was fun."

                Tristan flopped down on the couch and groaned.  "I'm so sorry, Lane.  I promise, you won't have to see the Addams Family any more this weekend."

                She sat down beside him and patted his knee.  "Don't say that, Tristan.  You're insulting the Addams Family."  She paused when he chuckled.  "Besides, Andrew and Natalie didn't seem so bad."

                "Yeah, you and my dear cousin seemed to hit it right off."

                "He's nice, and he plied me with alcohol.  What's not to like?"

                "And of course, you think he's hot," Tristan teased.

                Lane blushed.  "That doesn't hurt either."

                "Awfully convenient that you both live in Boston.  Even more convenient that he wants to 'get together sometime.'"

                "Do you think he meant it?"

                "Of course he did."  He looked at her thoughtfully.  "I'm guessing this means you won't want us to masquerade as a couple after all."

                "Do you mind?  I mean, I still want to help you with the Rory situation…"

                "Of course I don't mind, Lane.  For one thing, I don't want to trick Rory into falling for me.  For another, if you're meant to find happiness with my cousin, I'm not going to stand in your way—_despite his questionable family."_

                "You're too kind.  Don't forget that you're a member of that questionable family.  Now come on, enough sitting around.  It's time for you to show me the sights of Napa."

                "Your wish is my command."

*              *              *

                Rory shivered violently as she and Ryan stepped out of the hospital into the frigid air.  "I really like your grandfather, Ryan.  He's a fascinating man."

                "I think he finds you equally fascinating, Lorelai.  You certainly earned his seal of approval."

                "I'm glad.  Ryan…is there any chance he'll pull through this?"

                Ryan sighed.  "Well, I suppose there's always a chance—but the outlook doesn't look good."

                "I've never lost anyone I love, you know?  I don't even want to imagine what it will be like when one of my grandparents dies."

                Ryan squeezed her hand.  "I hope you don't have to find out for a very long time.  The way I look at it, though, when he does finally go, at least he'll have lived a full, wonderful life."

                "That's a nice way to think of it.  When my time comes, I hope people can say that about me."

                "I'm sure they will, Lorelai."

_To be continued…_


	26. If you really wanted to mess me up, you ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's title quote is from _High Fidelity.  John Cusack is a god.  And this is dedicated to Chris, 'cause she's a WSC-updating goddess._

**Unholy **Alliance********

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-six: If you really wanted to mess me up, you should have gotten to me earlier.

                _Thanksgiving had come and gone, and the Christmas holidays were rapidly approaching.  Since returning to __Boston_, Lane and Andy have been going on occasional dates, their burgeoning relationship hampered slightly by Lane's busy schedule at the hospital.  Rory and Ryan are still dating, but not engaged.  Rory's refusal to give him an answer to his proposal has become a point of contention between the two.  Meanwhile, Rory and Tristan continue to work long hours together, the launch of the Internet magazine now just weeks away.__

                It was Friday, December 17th, and Rory Gilmore was baking cookies.  Technically, this only entailed slicing the Pillsbury dough with the green Christmas trees in the middle, and then putting them in the oven, but it was better than nothing.  Glancing at her watch, Rory began to cut faster.  Lane was coming to Hartford for the weekend, and she was due to arrive any minute.

                Just as Rory slid the sheet of cookies into the oven, there was a knock at the apartment door.  Grinning widely, she hurried to answer it.

                Her smile faltered slightly when the door swung open to reveal Tristan.  "Tristan.  Hey. What's up?"

                "I'm sorry to bother you, Rory, I know you're expecting Lane soon."

                She waved her hand dismissively.  "It's no problem.  Do you want to come in?"

                "No, I won't keep you.  I was just wondering if you had half a cup of sugar I could borrow."

                She smirked at him.  "If I didn't know better, I'd think that was a bad pick-up line.  Sure, I think I have sugar.  What's it for?"

                He flushed slightly.  "I'm cooking dinner.  For a date."

                Rory's eyebrows shot up, and she felt a funny twinge in her stomach.  "A date, huh?  It's about time you got back into the game."

                "Yeah, I guess."

                "So who is she?  Anyone I know?"

                "No, just a woman I met a few weeks ago.  She works at the little deli down the street from your office."

                "Is this your first date with her?"

                "Third, actually.  Um, could I get that sugar now?"

                "Sure.  Hang on just a second."

                He stood just inside the apartment while Rory disappeared into the kitchen.  Before she returned, Tristan heard someone coming up the stairs.  Turning, he caught sight of Lane, hauling a small suitcase up behind her.  Smiling widely, he hurried over to help her.

                "Lane, hi!"

                She looked up and returned his smile.  "Hi Tristan.  Are you joining us for dinner tonight?"

                He reached for her suitcase and lifted it easily.  "I can't.  I have a date."

                "A date?  Really?"

                "You sound so shocked, Lane.  Am I not worthy dating material?"

                She swatted him playfully.  "Of course you are!  But what about…"

                Lane trailed off as Rory stepped into the hallway, holding what appeared to be a measuring cup.

                "Lane!" she squealed.  "I'm so glad you're here!"  When Lane and Tristan reached her, Rory thrust the sugar towards him and enveloped her best friend in a bear hug.  "How was your drive?"

                "The usual—heavy traffic, stupid drivers.  All that matters is that I'm here now."

                "Well, come on in, I have some cookies in the…"  She was cut off by the shrill beeping of the smoke alarm.  In a panic, she rushed back into the apartment.

                Chuckling, Lane and Tristan exchanged amused glances.

                "I should get in there, make sure Rory doesn't burn down the building," Lane commented.  "You and I will finish this discussion later."

                "Oh we will, will we?"

                "Have fun on your _date_ Tristan."  Gently, she pulled her suitcase out of his grasp and disappeared into Rory's apartment, shutting the door behind her.

                Glancing down at his cup of sugar, Tristan headed back into his own apartment.

*              *              *

                The cookies were a total loss, but several cartons of Chinese food and a bottle of wine Lane had bought in California helped compensate for the lack of a sugar fix.  Once they finished dinner, the two girls relaxed on the couch and played catch-up.

                "I'm so glad you were able to come down this weekend," Rory said.

                "I am too.  It kind of sucks that I have to work next weekend, though."

                Rory patted her hand sympathetically.  "Just think, in a few more years, you can sentence some poor resident to Christmas duty while you jet off to the Bahamas."

                "I can hardly wait."

                "So what's Andy doing this weekend?  I thought you'd want to spend some time with him, since you actually have a couple days off."

                Lane made a face.  "The one weekend I have free, and he gets sent to D.C. on assignment.  Ooh, I did bring my pictures from California, though!"

                "Let me see!" Rory squealed excitedly.

                Retrieving the photos from her bag, Lane settled back on the couch beside Rory, narrating each shot.

                "Wow, Lane, Andy is gorgeous."

                "I know," the other woman sighed happily.  "He's like my own personal Greek god."

                "Are you two getting serious?"

                Lane shrugged.  "I don't know about serious.  We have a lot of fun together, but with our schedules, we're still getting to know each other.  I really like him, though."

                "I can tell," Rory responded with a smile.  She paused as Lane flipped to a picture of herself and Tristan clinking their wine glasses at a vineyard.  "You and Tristan have gotten to be pretty close, haven't you?"

                "Yeah, he's a good guy."

                "What's his family like?"

                "Completely insane.  Well, most of them.  Obviously, I don't have a problem with Andy, and Tristan's sister Natalie is pretty cool.  Hey, what's up with him having a date tonight?"

                "No clue.  I didn't even know he was seeing anyone until today."

                "So who is she?"

                "Some girl from the deli by work.  I don't even know her name."

                Lane gave her friend a contemplative look.  "You sound bothered by your lack of knowledge of Tristan's love life."

                "I guess I am, a little.  I mean, he's supposed to be my friend, you know?  And I don't even know he's dating anyone until he happens to need sugar."

                "Are you sure that's all it is?"

                "What else would it be?"

                "Just making sure you weren't, you know, jealous or anything."

                "Why would I be jealous?"

                "No reason, I guess."

*              *              *

                Tristan glanced surreptitiously at his watch.  His date had only been underway for thirty minutes, but it felt like it had been hours.  Sasha was a nice enough girl, and he had enjoyed their coffee date and their movie date.  Tonight was different, though.

                From the moment she arrived, it had been clear that Sasha was expecting their relationship to progress to a new level tonight.  Her top was tight, low-cut, and practically transparent, while her black leather pants clung precariously to her narrow hips.  She had practically sat in his lap while they sipped glasses of wine.  He gratefully escaped to the opposite side of the table as soon as dinner was ready.

                Now, Tristan was worried that Sasha was never going to stop talking.

                "…and so then I was like, 'Look, man, you ordered a turkey club, and the turkey club comes with mayo, and you, like, didn't say you didn't want mayo, so, like, there's nothing I can do.'  So then this jerk totally went off on me, and I thought Jerry—he's my manager—was going to go into cardiac arrest, and he made me give no-mayo guy a brand new sandwich _for free, and he told me that if I caused another incident like that, he would fire me."_

                As soon as she paused for breath, Tristan jumped into the conversation.  "Wow, that's awful.  How long have you worked at the deli?"

                "Hmm…  About three years, now.  You know, it was just supposed to be a temporary gig, but then I realized how much I liked the people there, and then I started to get to know the regulars, and the next thing I knew…"

                _And we're off and running again, Tristan thought with resignation._

*              *              *

                "Lane, there has to be a reason.  You wouldn't be asking if I was jealous unless you thought I was jealous."

                Lane gave Rory a funny look.  "Okay, I think I followed that.  It's just…sometimes there's this weird vibe between you and Tristan.  Sparks, you might say."

                "The only sparks I have with Tristan are from when we argue."

                "If you say so, Rory."

                She threw up her hands in frustration.  "Why on earth won't you believe me?  I mean, I'm practically engaged to Ryan."

                "But you _aren't_ engaged to Ryan.  There must be a reason for that too."

                Rory ducked her head, no longer willing to meet her best friend's gaze.  "I don't know, Lane.  I know I'm being ridiculous.  He's handsome, smart, funny, successful, and he wants to marry me.  There's really no good reason why I didn't say yes to him the minute he asked me.  But I just…I couldn't."

                Lane put a comforting arm around the other girl's shoulders.  "Rory, if you're not sure, that's a perfectly good reason.  You saw what your mom went through with Mr. Medina.  She said yes because she thought she should…"

                "…when deep down she was in love with Luke, and had been for years," Rory finished the story.

                Lane didn't respond, not wanting to push too hard.  She remembered how Lorelai had protested that she and Luke were just friends, no matter how many times Miss Patty, Babette, or Emily Gilmore insisted otherwise.  In a way, it had probably kept Luke and Lorelai apart for more years than necessary."

                "I'm not my mother," Rory murmured.

                "No, you're not.  All I'm saying is, you've learned from her mistakes your entire life.  Don't let that trend stop now."

                "So you think marrying Ryan would be a mistake?"

                "I didn't say that.  All I'm saying is that if you do decide to marry him, make sure it's for the right reasons."

                "I will, Lane.  I promise."

*              *              *

                Tristan glanced at the clock and groaned.  Eleven o'clock and he had just gotten rid of Sasha.  After placing the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, he returned to the living room and collapsed on the couch.  Dating Sasha had been a mistake—he had known that the moment she arrived tonight.  Still, he kept hoping it would get better, that she would help keep his mind off of Rory and her possible pending engagement.

                Instead, it only served to remind him just how amazing Rory was, and how incredibly…annoying so many other women were.

                His maudlin reverie was interrupted by a sharp knock at his door.  Rolling off the couch, Tristan walked over and opened the door to a very agitated Lane Kim.

                "Lane?  What are you doing here?"

                Without preamble, she barged into the apartment.  "I told you we were going to finish our discussion.  I didn't think that bimbo was ever going to leave."

                "Hey, you've never met Sasha.  How do you know she's a bimbo?"

                Lane leveled a hard stare at him.  "Is she?"

                "Well…yeah.  But that's not the point.  Won't Rory wonder where you are?"

                She waved off that possibility.  "She's been on the phone with Ryan for an hour, and we've already said our goodnights.  I don't expect to see her until tomorrow morning."

                He grimaced at the mention of his partner's name.  "I'm surprised you two aren't staying awake all night, catching up."

                She settled into his recliner and flipped up the footrest before replying.  "One of the interesting things about my friendship with Rory is that, no matter how long we've been apart, after only an hour together, it's as if we've never been separated."

                "Wow, that's pretty special."

                She shrugged.  "Multiple phone calls per week help too."

                He grinned.  "What exactly did you want to discuss?"

                "Let's get straight to the point.  Why are you dating the Deli Ditz when you're in love with the girl next door…or at least the girl across the hall?"

                "Because the girl across the hall isn't in love with me.  I'm tired of pining over Rory.  I thought dating might help."

                "Did it?"

                He snorted.  "Not exactly.  I'm starting to think it's a lost cause.  But enough about my pathetic love life.  How's Andy?"

                "He's great.  We don't get to see each other as much as we'd like, but we're making the best of it."

                "Have you told your parents about him yet?"

                "Are you kidding me?  I'm not subjecting myself to that kind of torture until I absolutely have to."

                "Fair enough," Tristan said.

                "Will you be seeing your family for Christmas?"

                He shook his head.  "After the Thanksgiving fiasco, I doubt I'd be welcome.  I think I'm just going to head back to New York and have a quiet holiday."

                Lane's face fell.  "Tristan, you can't spend Christmas alone!  You know I'd invite you to spend it with me, but I'll be working."

                "Don't worry about it, Lane.  I'll be fine."

                She wasn't about to be deterred.  "Why don't you go to Stars Hollow?"

                "I am _not crashing Rory's Christmas."_

                "What if you were invited?"

                "Lane, I don't want you saying anything to Rory about this."

                "I won't, I promise!"

                He leaned back and sighed.  "Somehow, that's not entirely reassuring."

_To be continued…_


	27. Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't com...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's title quote is from _How__ the Grinch Stole Christmas…the original animated version, not the Jim Carrey movie.  And yes, I know this chapter was extremely long in coming.  Will the next one come sooner?  Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies…_

**Unholy **Alliance********

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-seven: Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.  Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!

                _'Twas the night before Christmas Eve, Tristan thought, _and I have nowhere to go._  Paris had taken a half-day, and left the office hours ago.  Rory had been running around like a crazy person, while he double-checked and triple-checked the website's layouts, graphics, and links.  He would be on vacation until the New Year's Day launch, so all bugs had to be found and exterminated before he left work today.  Normally, RJ would take care of such technical tweaking, but he had already flown back to Chicago to spend the holidays with his family._

                Sequestered in her office, Rory typed furiously, trying to tie up countless last-minute details.  She almost screamed with frustration when her phone rang, shattering her concentration.

                She snatched up the receiver and barked, "What?!"

                "Who died and made you Scrooge?" Lorelai asked.

                Rory sighed.  "Sorry, mom.  Today has been crazy.  I just want to finish up and come home."

                "I know, sweetie.  Just a little while longer, though, and you have more than a week off."

                "Believe me, I'm counting the minutes."

                "Is anyone else left at the office, or are you all by your lonesome?"

                "No, Tristan's still here."

                "Say hi to him for me, will you?"

                "Sure."

                "What's he doing for Christmas?"

                "Actually, I don't think he's doing much of anything.  Thanksgiving with his family was a disaster, remember?"

                "I know, but we've had plenty of disastrous family holidays, and we still get together."

                "Our family is a little different from the DuGreys, mom."

                "Still, no one should spend Christmas alone.  Why don't you invite him to come here?"

                "I don't know…"

                "Sweetie, it's not really a suggestion."

                Rory sighed again.  "Okay, mom."

                "Go do it now."

                "Pushy much?"

                "Decisive, not pushy.  There's a difference."

                "Aye, aye, Captain!"

                "I'll see you tonight."

                "Bye mom."

*              *              *

                After hanging up with Rory, Lorelai immediately called Lane's cell phone.  It went straight to voice mail, and she left a brief message.  "Lane, it's Lorelai.  Phase One of Operation Not-Technically-Breaking-My-Promise-to-Tristan is officially underway.  Updates will follow as events warrant."

*              *              *

                Rory stood outside the door of what had unofficially become Tristan's office.  She hesitated, unsure of why it was so hard to ask him to spend Christmas with her family.

                Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, walking in at the sound of his distracted "Come in."

                She sat down, and didn't speak until he paused his furious typing.

                "How's it going?"

                He exhaled loudly.  "Okay, I guess.  Slower than I'd like, but this is really RJ's area, not mine."

                "I know he feels guilty about leaving at such a critical time."

                Tristan waved it off.  "I don't mind.  I know how important it is for him to be with his family."

                She smiled gently.  "You're a good guy, Tristan."

                "Thanks, but don't tell anyone.  It would ruin my image."  He grinned when she chuckled, and then asked, "So what are you still doing here?  Isn't there some Stars Hollow festival you could be attending?"

                "Yeah, but you're not the only one with deadlines.  I'll head home soon.  What about you?"

                He shrugged.  "I think I'll work a while longer.  I don't really have any pressing plans."

                Rory shifted nervously in her chair, uncertain of how to phrase her request.  "I actually wanted to talk to you about that.  Would you…wouldyouliketospendChristmasinStarsHollowwithme?"

                He laughed.  "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.  Could you repeat it?"

                Slowly, she drawled, "Would…you…like…to…spend…Christmas…in…Stars…Hollow…with…me?"

                Tristan gave her a sad smile.  "It's nice of you to offer, but I don't want your pity, Rory."

                "It's not pity, it's friendship.  I want you to be there, and I know my family does too."

                "Are you sure?"

                She nodded.

                "Then I accept.  Thank you."

                She beamed at him.  "You're welcome.  Now get cracking—I want to be home in time for dinner!"

                He snapped off a salute, and replied with a grin, "Yes, ma'am!"

*              *              *

                Snow was falling lightly when they reached the house in Stars Hollow, and Rory leapt from the car and did a happy little dance, spinning in circles with her face upturned.  She laughed joyously, and the sound was infectious.  Tristan couldn't resist joining in, so he grabbed both her hands and twirled her around.

                Dizzy and out of breath, they finally stopped a few minutes later.  Rory's heart did a funny little leap when she looked at Tristan, with his rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.  Giving her head a sharp shake to clear the odd feeling, she dashed towards the house, calling behind her, "Last one in's a rotten eggnog!"

                He sprinted after her, but she was too quick for him.  He entered the house two steps behind her, and then barreled into her when she stopped abruptly.

                Grabbing Tristan by the hand, Rory hauled him in the direction of the kitchen, shouting, "Mom, mom!  I found a stray!  Can I keep him?  Please, can I?  Huh, huh?"

                Lorelai, who was standing in front of the open freezer holding a pint of Ben & Jerry's The French Hen or the Eggnog, nearly snorted ice cream through her nose in her excitement.  "Rory!  You're home!"  She engulfed her oldest child in a bear hug.  "It's snowing, sweetie!  Did you see it?"

                "Of course I did.  Tristan and I even danced in it."

                Immediately, Lorelai shifted her attention to the young man hovering in the background.  Her expression menacing, she advanced on him.  "Dancing in the snow with my daughter, eh?"  She broke into a wide smile.  "I'm glad to hear it.  You know, there's sort of a tradition in our family—magical things happen when it snows."

                "Is that so?"

                Lorelai nodded solemnly.  "It is so.  I have a feeling that magical things are going to happen for you this weekend."

                "I hope you're right."

                She smiled impishly.  "Haven't you heard?  I'm _always right."  She gave him a quick hug.  "I'm so happy you're here."_

                Tristan bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek.  "Not as happy as I am to be here."

                "Ever the charmer, aren't you?"

                He smirked.  "I try."

                "Don't waste all your ass-kissing on me.  My parents should be here any minute, and they're much harder to impress than I am."

                "You mean casually dropping my last name won't be good enough?"

                She gazed at him thoughtfully.  "Actually…it might."

                As if on cue, the doorbell rang.  "Speak of the devils…" Lorelai mumbled.

                "Mom…" Rory chided gently.  "Be nice."

                Lorelai pouted as the three of them headed for the front door.  "But it won't be a holiday if I don't make steam come out of their ears."

                "_Behave," her daughter said sternly.  Without waiting for any further argument, Rory flung open the door.  "Hi, grandma, hi, grandpa!  Merry Christmas!"_

                "Hello, dear," Emily replied.  "Merry Christmas to you, too."

                "Hello, Rory," Richard said, embracing his granddaughter.  "I'm glad you made the drive safely."

                "It's not that far, grandpa—you live just as far away."

                "I know, but we still worry," he replied.

                "Aren't you going to invite us in, Lorelai?" Emily asked tartly.  "It isn't exactly the Tropics out here."

                "Of course, come in.  Can I get either of you a drink?  I know I could certainly use one."

                "White wine would be lovely."

                "Anything for you, dad?"

                "Scotch on the rocks, please."

                After Lorelai disappeared into the kitchen, Rory asked, "May I take your coats?"

                "Certainly, dear," her grandmother said, "but aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

                Rory flushed, having momentarily forgotten Tristan was there.  "Yes, sorry.  Grandma, grandpa, this is Tristan DuGrey.  Tristan, my grandparents, Emily and Richard Gilmore."

                "It's a pleasure to see you again, ma'am, sir."

                Emily's eyebrows shot up.  "Have we met before?"

                "Yes, ma'am, briefly.  It was quite a few years ago, at a birthday party you threw for Rory."

                She nodded approvingly.  "I see.  You're a friend of hers from Chilton, then?"

                Tristan glanced quickly at Rory, knowing that wasn't really an accurate representation of their relationship in those days, but unwilling to try and explain.  To his relief, Rory spoke up.

                "Yes, you could say that."

                If Emily Gilmore sensed there was more to the story, she wisely said nothing.

                Lorelai chose that moment to return with the drinks.  "Why's everyone standing around out here?  Come see the Christmas tree."

                The group dutifully trooped after her into the living room, and gave the appropriate "oohs" and "aahs" in appreciation of the decorations.  Tristan hid a grin.  His mother would be mortified by the tree, with it's mishmash of Hallmark Keepsake ornaments, homemade ornaments covering in glitter and cotton balls, garlands of popcorn, and a liberal garnish of silver tinsel.

                He thought it was the most beautiful Christmas tree he had ever seen.

                Once everyone was seated, Emily asked, "Where are Luke and the children?"

                Lorelai made a face.  "Over at the diner, wrapping my presents.  He apparently thinks I can't be trusted not to peek."

                "Wherever would he get that idea?" her mother inquired dryly, taking a sip of her wine.

                "One incident with an X-acto knife and people never let you forget it," Lorelai grumbled.

                Puzzled, Tristan commented, "I think I'm missing a story, here."

                Rory turned to him and began to explain.  "The first Christmas mom and Luke were married, he wrapped all her gifts several weeks in advance, and put them on the floor in his closet.  He figured that since they were wrapped, he didn't have to worry about her peeking.  On Christmas morning, though, he could tell she wasn't surprised, even though the packages looked exactly like they had when he wrapped them."

                "How did she manage that?"

                "Apparently, she took an X-acto knife, slit the tape along the seams of the paper, and unwrapped the presents.  Then, she wrapped them back up exactly the same way, using the existing creases and folds in the paper, and placing brand new pieces of tape directly over the old, cut pieces."

                Tristan gaped at Lorelai.  "You've got to be kidding me."

                "Nope.  Ever since that year, Luke hides all of mom's presents at an undisclosed location, wraps them at the diner on Christmas Eve, and then brings them home to put under the tree."

                He guffawed.  "That's classic!  I wish I had thought of that when I was a kid."

                "Well, I think it's dreadful," Emily said.  "Lorelai was certainly old enough to know better."

                "Can't we just chalk it up to my being a kid at heart?" the culprit asked, her tone wheedling.

                Tristan reached over and patted her knee.  "If that's what helps you sleep at night."

                "You people are no fun."

                "Of course we're fun!" Richard admonished her.  "We're just…mature."

                "Isn't that another word for 'boring'?"

                "Mom…"

                "Sorry, Rory," Lorelai said contritely.  She turned to Tristan.  "See, your family isn't the only one that has interesting holidays."

                "Where is your family this Christmas, Tristan?" Emily asked.

                "I believe they're in Vermont, ma'am, at the family cabin in Killington."

                "All of those 'ma'ams' are making me feel ancient.  Please, call me Emily.  Christmas in Vermont sounds lovely—why didn't you join them?"

                Suddenly uncomfortable, Tristan floundered for an answer that wouldn't make him feel like a fool.  Once more, it was Rory to his rescue.

                "Tristan is just too dedicated to his work, grandma.  He and Ryan are designing the on-line version of the _Harbinger, and with Ryan in Chicago for Christmas, he didn't feel he should go out of town as well."_

                "That's an admirable work ethic, young man," Richard complimented him.  "You don't see that very often these days."

                "Is this Ryan the same young man you've been dating, Rory?" Emily asked.

                "Yes, grandma."

                She shook her head disapprovingly.  "It's really not wise to date people that you work with."

                Rory squirmed uncomfortably.  She wasn't used to getting a negative reaction from her grandmother.  "The work situation is only temporary, and really, I spend most of my time working with Tristan."

                "I see," Emily murmured.  The way she said it, Rory was quite sure that she _did_ see—she just wasn't sure _what_ her grandmother saw.

                Sensing the awkward shift in mood, Lorelai piped up with, "So…how about eggnog?  I spiked it."

                In one simultaneous breath, Rory and Tristan mumbled, "Thank God."

                It just might be a holly jolly Christmas after all.

_To be continued…_


	28. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted her were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

A/N: This chapter's title quote is from _Say Anything. Yes, I've used that movie before. But it's John Cusack…he can have as many title quotes as he wants._

**Unholy Alliance **

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-eight: I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.

There was a commotion in the front hall as Luke came in with the three kids. "I could use a hand in here!" he hollered.

"Coming, honey!" Lorelai yelled back, starting to get up off the couch.

"I'll go, Lorelai," Tristan insisted. "You stay here and visit."

"What a nice young man you are!" Emily exclaimed. "See, Lorelai? Those are what civilized people call 'manners.'"

"Thanks for the etiquette lesson, mom."

Tristan held back his laughter as he exited the room. Once in the hallway, he was greeted by the sight of an overloaded Luke, a twin on each arm, bulging shopping bags clutched in his hands, and Billy clinging to his leg.

"Hey Tristan. Good to see you."

"You too. What can I take?"

"Pick a twin, any twin."

"Which one is Emma?"

"Purple coat."

Moving quickly, Tristan removed the little girl from her father's arms. "Hi there, Emma," he said quietly. "Do you remember me?"

Shyly, she nodded, and then buried her head against his shoulder.

"Hey, no hiding," he scolded her gently, shifting her on his hip and running a hand through her brown curls. "Are you excited about Santa Claus coming tonight?"

Again, she nodded, a smile beginning to tug at her lips.

"And you were a good girl this year?"

Her nod was more vigorous this time, and Tristan laughed. "Then I bet you'll have all sorts of presents under the tree tomorrow."

"I think you're getting better at this," Rory spoke up from behind him.

He turned to her and smiled. "You're the one that said I needed to practice."

"I'm glad you took my advice." Crouching down, she extracted her little brother from Luke's leg. "Hi, Billy. Guess what?"

"What?"

"Grandma and grandpa are in the living room with mom. I'll bet grandpa has a peppermint in his pocket for you."

"Yay!" he cried, scampering off.

"Hey, Luke. Merry Christmas." She gave him a hug, and took Charlotte with her when she pulled away.

"Merry Christmas to you. How was your drive?"

"Not bad. The usual holiday traffic, but at least we're not in the middle of a blizzard."

"I don't know," Luke cautioned, "if the weatherman is right, we might end up snowed in here."

Rory just laughed it off. "When is the weatherman ever right?"

"True," Luke conceded.

Rory glanced down at her little sister. Charlotte's eyes were drooping, and her head was pillowed on her big sister's shoulder. "Uh-oh, somebody looks sleepy. Do you want us to put them to bed?"

"Yeah, that would be great, thanks."

"Come on, Tristan. It'll be good practice."

Dutifully, he followed her out of the room, while Luke headed towards the living room with the gifts.

* * *

Half an hour later, the girls were tucked snugly into bed. As she closed the door to their bedroom, Rory commented, "You know, this used to be my room."

"Really?"

She nodded. "It looked a little different back then. The shelves were full of books, there was a Harvard pennant on the wall—typical teenager stuff."

"I doubt most teenagers have as many books as you did."

"That's true. It seemed perfectly normal to me, though."

"Trust me, you were anything but a normal teenager."

"Gee, thanks," she said sarcastically.

"I don't mean that as a negative. You were just very much your own person, even then."

"How would you know? We were barely even friends back then?"

"Believe me, I could tell. If you had been just another normal teenage girl, I wouldn't have paid nearly as much attention to you."

"Is _that what you call your persistent torment of me—'paying attention'?"_

He smirked, looking for all the world like his sixteen-year-old self. "No, the torment, as you phrase it, was what I liked to refer to as flirting. Getting caught staring at your ear in the middle of class was 'paying attention.'"

She blushed slightly. "I'm so glad we've clarified that."

He leaned against the wall next to the twins' bedroom door. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened if I had asked you to the PJ Harvey concert, instead of telling you that you were going with me?"

She leaned against the opposite wall, mimicking his pose. "Sometimes, especially after you left for military school. But at the time…well, I was in the middle of getting back together with Dean."

"Ah yes…the guy that called me an accountant. Whatever happened to him?"

She giggled softly. "I had forgotten all about that. Kind of ironic that Dean's a CPA now."

"Wow, that's like a script from a cheesy WB drama."

"Isn't it, though?"

"So have you guys kept in touch?"

"A little. The Stars-Hollow-small-town-effect makes it pretty much unavoidable. Fortunately, our relationship ended on good terms."

"What happened?"

"We just grew apart. I think that if we had tried to stay together, we would have ended up hating each other.

"How disgustingly mature of you," he teased.

"It's a gift. Now come on—they're going to start wondering where we are."

They headed into the living room, and, in a moment eerily reminiscent of their sophomore year at Chilton, both tried to go through the doorway at the same time. They shared a moment of awkward laughter, which attracted the attention of the people in the room.

"Walk much, you two?" Lorelai teased.

"Oh, look!" cried Emily. "You're standing under the mistletoe!"

Rory and Tristan immediately looked up. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe dangled from the doorjamb, the green leaves and white berries deceptively innocent-looking.

"Well go on, young man, kiss her," Richard urged. "It is tradition, after all."

Tristan looked Rory in the eyes, noting the trepidation in her sapphire orbs. "Who are we to buck tradition?" he asked quietly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she answered with a nervous laugh.

As he bent down to give her a chaste peck on the cheek, a rather significant cascade of events occurred. Out of the corner of her eye, Rory caught sight of her mother getting to her feet, camera in hand. She turned her head slightly, and opened her mouth to protest. At that exact moment, Tristan's kiss landed—not on his original target of her cheek, but square on her mouth. In the midst of forming a word, the tip of Rory's tongue lightly grazed Tristan's lips. Tristan, being Tristan, acted purely on instinct and took it as an invitation. Before she could even begin to comprehend what was happening, Rory's mouth was being plundered with sweet ferocity.

And then she was kissing him back.

Tristan, for his part, was quite convinced he was experiencing a Christmas miracle, or perhaps he had died and gone to heaven. Although…if this was heaven, he really didn't think there should be a niggling little voice poking at the back of his mind, telling him this wasn't right.

It sure as hell _felt_ right.

Then, with a startling rush of clarity, he broke the kiss and breathed, "RJ."

His regret was instantaneous. Rory's big blue eyes immediately filled with tears, and without a word, she bolted towards the back of the house.

Tristan swiped a hand through his hair. "Good to know I still have the same effect on her," he muttered. "Rory, wait!" he shouted, and took off after her.

A rather shell-shocked Lorelai sat down hard on the couch, her mouth gaping. Emily Gilmore, her features serene, her bearing regal, took a delicate sip of wine and commented, "Well _that_ was interesting."

* * *

Tristan tracked Rory to the bathroom. The door was closed and locked, but a sliver of light shone out under the doorway, and he could hear her muffled sobs emanating from within.

He rapped on the door gently, and said softly. "Rory, open up."

"Go away, Tristan."

"Rory, come on. We need to talk about this."

She didn't answer him, but he heard the lock click open. He pushed the door open slowly, slipped inside, and closed it behind him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said.

"You okay?"

She shook her head vigorously. "That never should have happened."

"You're doing a real number on my ego here, Gilmore."

She graced him with a watery smile. "You know that's not what I meant. I…I cheated on Ryan."

Tristan crouched down, looking her straight in the eye. "Don't beat yourself up. It was just a kiss under the mistletoe. It didn't mean anything," he insisted, trying not to wince at the lie.

"I wish it was that simple. But I…I kissed you back."

_That he had definitely been aware of—but now wasn't the time to rhapsodize about it. "Human nature, Ror. Instinct. I doubt you even realized what you were doing."_

She clasped her hands in front of her, and stared intently at them. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, but I think I might have, um, sort of…felt something for you when we kissed."

His eyes widened and his heart began to pound. "You did? I mean…are you sure? I really, um…really?"

She blushed a bright red. "This is so Zack and Jessie in the school play," she groaned.

"You're comparing us to _Saved By the Bell_?"

"You caught the reference, didn't you?" she giggled.

"Reruns on TBS were my guilty pleasure during college."

"Mine too. I loved the Malibu Sands episodes."

"Oh yeah—Leah Remini was hot."

"We're getting off track here," she pointed out.

"Tangents are so much more fun than reality," Tristan sighed.

"What do we do now?"

"We could take another cue from Jessie and Zack."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they both freaked out after they kissed, thinking they were betraying Slater and Kelly. So, after they talked to Mr. Belding, they kissed one more time and realized they didn't feel anything."

"If this is some pathetic attempt to trick me into making out with you…"

"No! I just thought you'd want to know, once and for all."

"Okay…but no tongue, Tristan!"

"On my honor."

Leaning towards her, Tristan watched Rory's eyes flutter closed. Tentatively, tenderly, he pressed his lips to hers, trying desperately not to let the fact that he was head-over-heels in love with her show in his kiss.

Rory responded with equal tenderness, her mind screaming that this couldn't possibly be right, while her heart whispered that she didn't exactly feel…nothing.

They broke the kiss, backing away and avoiding eye contact.

"So," Rory said overly brightly, "nothing, right?"

Eyes downcast, his tone slightly wistful, he replied, "Nothing at all."

"Well, now that that's cleared up, I'd better go explain things to my family."

"Okay. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."

"Take your time."

Once she was gone, Tristan turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on his face. It was official—he was a lovesick, spineless moron.

Exiting the bathroom, he made his way down the hall. As he passed the twins' rooms, he heard whimpering. Sucking inside, he saw Emma standing up in her crib, one hand clutching the rail, the other scrubbing at her eyes.

"Hey, little one. What's wrong?"

"Monsters," she whispered, stretching her arms out to him.

Hoisting her out of the crib, Tristan sat down in the rocking chair, settling the little girl in his lap, her head resting on his chest. "Monsters, huh?"

Emma nodded solemnly. "Over there," she pointed towards the closet.

"Sweetie, I promise you that there aren't any monsters in the closet."

"I scared."

"There's nothing to be scared of, Emma. Why don't you try and go back to sleep? I'll stay here with you."

She nodded again, and snuggled closer to him. Every few minutes, she would glance up, as if reassuring herself that he was still there.

After about twenty minutes, Emma's breathing evened out, and she fell asleep. Tristan didn't want to disturb her, so he just sat there rocking her.

After a little while, Lorelai appeared in the doorway. "You have quite a knack with her."

"Good to know that my charm works on one of the Gilmore women," he said wryly.

"That was quite a little show you two put on out there."

Absently, Tristan ran his hand over Emma's hair. "I'm in love with her, and she feels nothing."

"Rory may have convinced you that she feels nothing. She may even have convinced herself that she feels nothing. What I saw, what we all saw, was most definitely _something_."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Tristan, Ryan is a nice guy. He's very polite, and well-mannered. He has a nice smile. He tells charming stories, and he brought Billy and the girls leather-bound editions of children's classics. But he…he doesn't light that spark inside Rory, the way that you do, even if you're just arguing or joking. Ryan is—he's Rory's Dawson. You're her Pacey, Tristan."

_To be continued…_


	29. He's not gonna ride his bike past your h...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note: Yes, I really am updating.  My muse had taken a rather extended leave of absence, but it appears to have returned, at least for the time being.  As you will soon learn, the story still isn't drawing to a conclusion, but I do know where it's headed.  It's simply a matter of getting there.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy yet another frustrating chapter. J

Incidentally, this chapter's title quote is from _Pretty in Pink, because dammit, James Spader made being a jackass sexy._

**Unholy **Alliance********

**By Grace**

Part Twenty-nine: He's not gonna ride his bike past your house anymore.

                Tristan chuckled quietly.  "From one teenybopper show to another…" he murmured.

                "Huh?"

                He waved off Lorelai's confusion.  "Nothing.  Just something Rory said earlier."

                "Oh.  Anyway, don't give up hope just yet.  Even though we had to endure the agony of seasons four and five, Joey _did_ choose Pacey over Dawson in the end."

                "That may be, but Lorelai, life isn't a TV show.  Besides, RJ is a great guy.  Why are you so down on their relationship?"

                She groaned.  "I'm a horrible person—a horrible mother—aren't I?"

                "No, you're not.  You know you're not.  But for some delusional reason, you've decided I'm a better match for your daughter.  Given that I symbolize everything in life that you once ran away from, I'm having a hard time wrapping my feeble mind around that concept."

                "Just another example of my contrariness coming out to play.  Or something like that.  Ryan's spent some time here, and I like him.  He plays with Billy and the twins, he calls Luke 'sir,' and he brings me a pound of chocolate-covered coffee beans every time he visits.  If I put the two of you side-by-side on an accounting sheet, I'm sure Ryan would come out the clear winner.  He has everything going for him that I could ever want for my daughter.  But, I don't know, and maybe this makes me as meddlesome as my own mother—God forbid—he's just not _right for her."_

                "I want to believe you.  I really do.  But this is Rory, and the positive balance on the accounting sheet is going to win in the end."

                "I wish that I could tell you that you're wrong.  If you want, I can try to talk some sense into her, but she's my daughter to the core, and that would just send her running the other way."

                "Thanks anyway."

                "No problem.  Now, why don't you put Emma back in her crib and come rejoin the party?"

                "Sure.  I'll be right out."

*              *              *

                The remaining hours of Christmas Eve slipped past quickly and without drama.  The eggnog flowed freely, the laughter echoed through the house, and outside, the snow continued to fall.

                It was nearly midnight when Richard and Emily finally decided to take their leave.  Luke, Lorelai, Rory, and Tristan walked them to the door, said their goodnights, and proceeded to gape at the three feet of snow blanketing Stars Hollow.

                "Where did all that come from?" Lorelai queried with dismay.

                "One would presume from the sky, Lorelai," Emily said dryly.  "It isn't as though there are snow elves, after all."

                "But what are we going to do?"

                "Well, we certainly can't drive home tonight," her mother insisted.  "We'll just have to stay here tonight."

                Lorelai seemed to go into a semi-catatonic state.  "Stay here.  Of course," she mumbled.  "One big happy family, all under one roof.  Why didn't I think of that?"

                "Mom, why don't you and Luke go to bed?  Tristan and I can take care of getting Grandma and Grandpa settled."

                "Thanks, Rory," Luke replied, his tone relieved.  "Come on, Lorelai—I think you need to get some sleep."

                Mutely, she nodded and allowed her husband to lead her away.

                Rory quickly took charge of the situation, instructing Tristan to open up the pull-out couch, directing Emily to the linen closet for sheets and blankets, and suggesting to her grandfather that he have another glass of eggnog while they took care of everything.  Meanwhile, she headed upstairs to her mom and Luke's bedroom.

                She knocked gently, and Luke opened the door.  "What's up?" he asked, his voice weary.

                "Grandma and Grandpa are going to need clothes to sleep in."

                "Oh.  Right.  Let me see what I can find."

                Rory waited patiently in the hallway, and after a few minutes, Luke returned.  In his hands were a pair of men's flannel pajamas that had always been too big for him, and a large, full-length cotton nightgown that Rory recognized from her mother's pregnancy with the twins.

                "This was the best I could come up with," he said apologetically.

                "Then they'll have to do."  She gave him an encouraging smile.  "Don't worry.  Everything will be just fine."

                "I hope you're right."

                Rory flashed another cheerful smile before heading back downstairs.  There _was_ one small problem that she hadn't shared with Luke—she had absolutely no idea where she and Tristan were going to sleep.

*              *              *

                Emily and Richard were finally settled by quarter to one in the morning, and Rory dragged Tristan into the kitchen.

                "We have a problem," she told him.

                "What's wrong?"

                "I don't know where we're going to sleep."

                "Oh.  That is a problem.  Where were we supposed to sleep?"

                "You were supposed to have the couch, I was supposed to sleep in Billy's bed, and he would have been in a sleeping bag in mom and Luke's room.  Obviously, the couch is occupied, and my mom forgot to put Billy in her room.  Which leaves us without a lot of options."

                Tristan let out a huge yawn.  "Hmm.  Okay.  Well, let me know when you figure it out.  I'm just going to put my head down on the table for a minute…"

                "No way, mister.  I'm way too tired to come up with a solution on my own."

                "Why can't we just sleep in sleeping bags like Billy was going to?" he asked, yawning again.

                "Where?  There isn't enough room on the floor in Billy's or the twins' rooms for one person, let alone two.  The couch, Christmas tree, and presents are taking up the entire living room, and I'm not about to wake up mom and Luke.  They're stressed enough as it is."

                "I'm telling you, the kitchen table is sounding better and better."

                "You're not helping."

                "Sorry."

                Rory sighed, and tried desperately to make her mind think clearly.  Finally, a thought occurred to her.  "That might work…"

                "What?" Tristan asked, his voice muffled by the table, since he had followed through with his decision to lay his head on it.

                "The sewing room.  It's…well, it's a glorified closet, really.  It's not even a sewing room—yet, anyway.  My mom emptied it out, and Luke is supposed to fix it up for her, but he hasn't gotten around to it.  It will be a tight fit, but I think we can manage to squeeze in."

                "Do I get a pillow?"

                "Yes."

                "Sounds perfect.  Lead the way."

*              *              *

                Stopping only to change clothes and gather pillows and sleeping bags, it was only a few minutes before they made their way into the future sewing room.  Rory hadn't been kidding about the size—it measured perhaps six feet by eight feet.  Tristan was pretty sure the walk-in closet in his childhood bedroom had been about twice as large.

                "Are you sure we're going to fit?"

                "It's this or the kitchen table," she shot back, fatigue evident in her voice.

                "Tough choice," he mumbled.

                "Just pick a patch of floor and be quiet.  I'm far too tired to listen to you bemoan the lack of adequate accommodations."

                "Hey, no need to get hostile."

                "Sorry.  I haven't been getting enough sleep lately."

                "I know.  Work has been pretty crazy."

                "Yes, it has," she agreed.  "I don't know if he's said anything to you, but I know Ryan is really grateful that you've been putting in so many hours."

                "He deserves to be able to spend time with his grandfather—not to mention you.  I know he'd do the same for me—probably without even kissing my almost-fiancé on Christmas Eve."

                "Tristan…"

                "I just want to apologize for what happened.  I should have pulled away."

                "We talked about this, remember?  What happened wasn't anybody's fault.  We just can't ever let it happen again."

                "I'll be on the lookout for rogue mistletoe, then," he teased.

                "You do that," he replied sleepily, her voice trailing off into a yawn.

                "Hey, Rory?"

                "Hmm?"

                "Merry Christmas."

                She didn't reply, and when he leaned over, Tristan realized she was already asleep.

*              *              *

                Tristan would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that he had closed his eyes only five minutes ago, when he woken by the excited shrieks of three very happy children.  Forgetting where he was for the moment, he rolled over and crashed into a wall.  "Ouch!" he yelped, gingerly rubbing a hand across his forehead.

                Beside him, Rory sat up, her eyes still at half-mast.  "Whazzat?" she mumbled.

                "Sorry.  Close encounter with the wall."

                She turned towards the sound of his voice, her eyes still not open.  "Okay.  Sleep…need more sleep."  Without another word, she lay back down.

                "I don't think so, Sleeping Beauty."  Carefully, he nudged her shoulder.  "It's Christmas morning, and the munchkins are raring to go."

                "Ugh," she groaned.  "Children need to be taught the value of sleeping in."

                "You don't fool me, Ror.  I bet you were the same way when you were little."

                "Guilty.  Oh well.  We may as well get the coffee started."

                Half an hour later, the entire household could reasonably be termed awake, an almond coffeecake ring was heating up in the oven, and Billy, Emma, and Charlotte were itching to tear into the pile of brightly wrapped gifts.  Lorelai was just about to given them the go-ahead when the doorbell rang.

                "You guys get started; I'll get the door," Rory announced.  She headed over to the front door, and opened it after peering outside.  "Jess, Paris!" she greeted them with a smile.  "We weren't expecting you to get here so early."

                "Explain that to this…this _fetus_," Paris snapped, gesturing angrily at her protruding belly.  "I've been awake most of the night, thanks to all the kicking."

                "And since she was awake, Paris decided I should be awake too," Jess interjected.  "I finally suggested we come over here, where at least there would be coffee."

                "Fantastic idea, darling.  We could have stood outside in the freezing cold at the diner."

                "Sorry," Rory said, backing away from the door.  "Come on in.  Everyone's in the living room, opening presents.  Coffee's in the kitchen—help yourself."

                Rory shut the door behind them, and pulled her robe more tightly around her body to ward off the chill.  Just as she was turning to head back into the living room, the doorbell rang again.  Puzzled, she went to open it—they weren't expecting anyone else until late that afternoon.

                Her jaw dropped, and for just a moment, she was speechless.  "Ryan?  Oh my God, what are you doing here?"

                "Let me in, and I'll tell you all about it," he said with a laugh.

                "Of course, come in!  I don't understand—you're supposed to be in Chicago!"

                "If you want, I can head back there," he teased.

                "No way, mister!"  Overwhelmed by joy, Rory threw her arms around him, and pulled his head down for a kiss.

                Ryan was breathless when they finally broke apart.  "I must say, Lorelai, you certainly know how to give a guy a Christmas present."

                "My pleasure.  So tell me, really, what _are_ you doing here?"

                "I'm here to see you, obviously."

                "But what about your grandfather?"

                "I went to see him yesterday, and the first thing he did was ask about you.  I explained the situation, what with you wanting to be here with your family, since you missed Thanksgiving, and me wanting to be there with him."

                "And?"

                "And he told me straight off that I was a fool, and that I should get on the first plane back here to be with you."

                She snuggled closer to him.  "I'll have to thank him the next time I see him."

                "We'll both have to thank him," Ryan murmured as he drew her in for another kiss.  "You know," he continued as he peppered tiny nips along her jaw line, "I tried to get here last night, but there was a blizzard here."

                "I noticed," Rory giggled.  "My parents actually got stranded here, and Tristan and I ended up sleeping in the closet."

                Ryan's arms stiffened just slightly around her, and his voice was a couple degrees cooler.  "Tristan's here?"

                "Yeah.  My mom found out he didn't have any plans for the holidays, so she had me invite him here."

                He forced himself to relax—the explanation was innocent enough, and Rory's voice held no guile.  "That was awfully nice of her."

                Rory nodded her agreement.  "Mom's like that.  I think she's always had a bit of a soft spot for strays."

                "I wouldn't exactly call Tristan a stray," Ryan chuckled, "but her heart is in the right place."

                "Come on, I want to tell everyone you're here!  They'll be so happy to see you."

                Truth be told, "happy" probably wasn't the word most casual observers would attribute to the Gilmore-Danes clan's reaction to RJ's visit.  "Astonished" would be a closer approximation, but in her own blinding joy, Rory was oblivious to it all.  So were Billy, Emma, and Charlotte, who were buried beneath a mountain of wrapping paper.

                Tristan, meanwhile, had been punched in the gut by reality.  When RJ appeared beside Rory in the living room, he had greeted his partner with a hearty handshake, a smile, and a near-boisterous "Merry Christmas!"  he managed to be gracious and sociable for twenty minutes, and then sneaked off to a corner.

                _This has to stop, he told himself.  _Not even I am this much of a masochist._  RJ loved Rory, and she loved him.  He could face that, accept that, in spite of all the hope Lorelai had instilled in him.  Enough was enough.  After the launch of the web site, he would dissolve the partnership with RJ.  He'd sell his shared, or maybe just give them to RJ.  He'd always wanted to travel more, see the wonders of the world and all that.  Maybe it was time to do all the things he had been putting off.  No more Rory, no more RJ, no more Lorelai, Luke, Billy, Emma, Charlotte…  No more heartache._

                His decision was made; his New Year's resolution had come a week early.  It was as simple as that.

                Right.

To be continued… 


	30. You know for something you've been holdi...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.  Nor do I know the character of Brooke Davis from _One Tree Hill_.

Author's Note: Another update, and less than six months have passed.  This one is dedicated to Priya, because she rocks.  And she knows how to dance. J

Incidentally, this chapter's title quote is from _Sweet Home__Alabama, because Reese Witherspoon is adorable._

**Unholy **Alliance********

**By Grace**

Part Thirty:  You know, for something you've been holding onto for so long, you're pretty quick to let it go.

I can't control her, anymore than I can control the weather.

                Christmas Day was winding down, although festivities were still underway at the Gilmore-Danes house.  Richard and Emily had gone home earlier in the evening, while Billy, Charlotte, and Emma had fallen into bed, exhausted by all the excitement.  Paris was sprawled on the couch, getting a foot massage from her husband.  Luke was in the kitchen arguing with Sookie over what constituted proper Yuletide après-dinner snacks—her words, not his.  Lorelai and Jackson were sitting on the floor with Davey, who was explaining his new LeapPad books to them.  Rory and Ryan were cuddled on a love seat in front of the fire.  Lane and Andy, who had also eschewed a DuGrey family Christmas, were currently searching for Tristan.  He had disappeared after helping but Emma and Charlotte to bed.

                "Maybe we should check outside," Andy suggested.

                "But it's cold out there," whined Lane.

                "You can stay here while I go look," he offered.

                "No, I'll come.  Just let me get a jacket."

                He waited while she retrieved both their coats, along with hats and gloves.  Thus guarded against the elements, they headed out into the bitterly cold night.

                Sure enough, they found Tristan sitting on the porch steps, sans coat, nursing an extremely large mug of hot spiced rum.

                "Hey, cuz," Andy greeted him.  "You know, there are warmer places to hide out and get drunk."

                "Wha' makes you think 'm hiding?" he asked, his speech slurred.

                "Just a hunch, since you're voluntarily sitting outside in twenty-degree weather, rather than inside a nice, warm house enjoying the company of family and friends," Lane piped up.

                "Those people aren't my family—and they never will be," Tristan protested bitterly.

                "Try not to drown in that sea of self-pity," Andy commented.  "Just in case you've forgotten, I _am your family."_

                Tristan took a deep draw from his mug before responding.  "You don't get it, do you?  I love her, more than I've ever loved anyone or anything.  And she's in love with my fucking best friend and business partner."

                "Tristan," Lane said softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hand.  "I know the situation seems impossible right now, but…"

                He tore his hand from her grasp and stood up.  "No more 'buts,' Lane!  It's over.  I can't do this anymore—I can't pretend I'm okay with this.  After January 1st, I'm dissolving my partnership with RJ and leaving the country.  I don't want to fight anymore, so I'm going to concede the loss."

                "That's bullshit, Tristan," Andy spat out.  "You don't get to abandon your life like that.  There are more people that care about you than Rory Gilmore."

                "Like Paris and Jess," Lane said.  "You're supposed to be a godfather, remember?"

                "Yeah, with Rory as godmother," he responded bitterly.

                "What about Billy, Emma, and Charlotte?" she countered.  "They adore you.  How do you think they'd feel is you disappeared.  For that matter, how do you think _I'd_ feel?  I care about you, Tristan—a lot.  You've become a good friend, and I don't want to lose you."

                "You're sweet.  But you're not going to lose me, Lane.  No matter where I go, we're still going to be friends."

                It was Lane's turn to get angry.  "Dammit, Tristan, could you possibly be any more selfish?  I get that you're hurt, okay?  But you're not the first person who's been hurt by love, and you sure as hell won't be the last!  So cut the crap already!  If you love her so much, tell her!  Fight for her!  Stop the passive-aggressive routine and _do something!"  Spinning around, she stomped back into the house._

                Andy stared at her, a mixture of shock and admiration on his face.  "I think I'm in love," he breathed.

                "My advice?  Tell her that as soon as you can," Tristan said wearily.

                Andy turned back to his cousin.  "So what are you going to do?  Are you really going to run away?"

                "Ask me again when I'm sober, okay?"

                "When might that be?" Andy asked.

                "Sooner than you might think.  I'm actually starting to feel the cold."

                "Let's head inside, buddy."

                "Lead the way."

*              *              *

                Christmas was officially over.  The clock had passed midnight just a few minutes before, and the only sound was an occasional pop from the waning fire.  The guests had gone home, and the sleeping arrangements were much less confusing than the night before.  Tristan had retired to Billy's room half an hour earlier, leaving Rory and Ryan to make up the sofa bed.  They were cuddled under the covers now, enjoying the silence after a day of revelry.

                "I'm glad we got to spend our first Christmas together, Lorelai," Ryan murmured.

                Rory smiled and snuggled closer to him.  "So am I.  It made the day perfect."

                "Your family is amazing, have I told you that?  It's incredible the way your mom and Luke open up their home to everyone.  Even Tristan," he added, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice,

                "Ryan…" she began, as she carefully chose her words, "does it bother you that Tristan is here?"

                She felt him sigh behind her.  "I know it shouldn't, but it does."

                Rory rolled over so that she could face him, and propped herself up on one elbow.  "Why?"

                "I just…I don't trust him, Lorelai.  Sure, I trust him to make business decisions and things like that, but…  I've seen the way he looks at you.  It's not the way you look at a friend."

                Rory's conscience stung.  She wanted to tell Ryan that he was imagining things, that there was nothing more between her and Tristan than friendship.  It was practically the truth anyway.  After all, she couldn't possibly see Tristan as anything more than that.  But how could she tell Ryan that when she and Tristan had kissed—_twice_—just a little over twenty-four hours before?  Sure, she told Tristan it didn't mean anything, and nothing more had happened, but somehow, she didn't think Ryan would accept the incident as being purely innocent.  Finally, she spoke.            

                "Tristan is an honorable man.  He respects your friendship, and your partnership.  Nothing is going to happen between us."

                Ryan recoiled slightly at her words.  "You're not denying that he has feelings for you."

                It was Rory's turn to sigh, but she couldn't quite meet his gaze as she replied.  "I'm not inside Tristan's head.  I can't tell you what he does or does not feel for me.  All I know is that he would never do anything to deliberately hurt you."

                Somewhat placated, Ryan allowed the subject to drop.  Still, an uneasy thought kept running through his head as he struggled to fall asleep that night—Lorelai hadn't denied that Tristan might have feelings for her…and she also hadn't denied that she might have feelings for Tristan.

*              *              *

                _New Year's Eve sucks, Tristan thought morosely.  He had fled to his apartment in New York the day after Christmas, desperate to escape the reality of Rory and Ryan.  No one tried to stop him, although Lorelai gave him a meaningful stare as she hugged him goodbye._

                Lane and Andy had tried to convince him to come to Boston for New Year's Eve, but he had begged off.  He was perfectly content to wallow in his own self-pity, alone.  Besides, Lane had to work that night, and hanging out in the hospital cafeteria until midnight, when his cousin tried to steal a kiss from Lane, wasn't overly appealing.

                So here he was, alone in his apartment on New Year's Eve.  It was eight o'clock in the evening, and he had been hearing revelers going past his door for the past few hours, heading for one party or another.

                Tomorrow, he had decided, was going to be the first day of the rest of his life.  He had held firm to the decision to dissolve his partnership with RJ, and was planning to make the announcement at the website launch party the following day.  Lane and Andy had managed to convince him that moving abroad was unacceptable, but he thought he might at least take a few weeks to tour Europe.

                He really wasn't sure what his next step would be, career-wise.  He supposed to could start up a new website-design business, but his heart wasn't really in the work anymore.  It wasn't like he actually _needed to work, anyway—he was well-off enough that he could take a few years off, if not more._

                He wasn't certain how Rory and Ryan were going to react to his decision to quit the partnership.  So far, the only people who knew of his plans were Lane, Andy, Paris, and Jess.  He suspected that Ryan would be pleased—the looks he had been shooting Tristan on Christmas Day indicated that the other man was aware of his less-than-platonic feelings for Rory.

                Rory herself, of course, ever remained a puzzle to Tristan.  If she stuck to her pattern of past behavior, she would choose to remain oblivious of Tristan's feelings for her, even while pleading with him to stay.

                Suddenly, Tristan found himself wishing that it was already tomorrow, that the deed was already done.  He felt a sense of impending freedom, and a restless energy was making him jittery.  Impulsively, he decided to go for a run.  It wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

*              *              *

                In Stars Hollow, the annual Festival of the New Year was in full swing.  Ryan couldn't help but wonder for a moment where exactly the small town got the funds to stage so many elaborate events.

                His train of thought was derailed when he caught sight of Lorelai walking across the town square toward him.  The biting chill in the sir had brought roses to her cheeks, her blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and a beatific smile was like a beacon of joy.  In short, she was breathtaking.

                She was walking with Jess and Paris, who had insisted that even if she couldn't partake in the champagne toast at midnight, she could still enjoy the holiday.  Jess had protested, saying it was too cold for her to be outside in her condition, but Paris silenced him with a patented stare.

                "You look happy," Ryan commented as the trio got close.

                "I am," Rory replied.  "I love New Year's—the idea of a fresh start.  Tomorrow is going to be amazing, too.  Paris and I were just talking about how fantastic the website looks, and what a great asset it will be for the magazine."  She wrapped her arms around his waist, and gazed up at him adoringly.  "You and Tristan make a great team."

                Paris had to bite her tongue.  She didn't agree with Tristan's decision to spring his resignation on Rory and Ryan tomorrow, but she also couldn't fault him for wanting to extricate himself from the situation.  She simply said instead, "They certainly did a wonderful job.  The party tomorrow is going to be…unbelievable."  She didn't react as Jess gave her a subtle nudge at her choice of words.

                "So where is Tristan?" Rory asked.  "I haven't talked to him since the day after Christmas, but I'm pretty sure he knows about the festival.  I thought maybe he'd show up."

                Ryan tightened his hold on Rory.  "I'm sure he's living it up in New York City.  You know Tristan—always the party animal."

                "Actually," Paris piped up," I talked to him this afternoon.  He's planning on staying in this evening."

                "Really?  That's too bad," said Rory.  "We should give him a call.  There's still time for him to make it down before midnight."

                "I don't think that's…" Ryan began.

                "That's a great idea," Paris cut him off, pulling out her cell phone.  Moments later, she flipped closed the small electronic device, a frown on her face.  "There's no answer."

                "What did I tell you?" Ryan said triumphantly.  "I bet he's out on the town, living the good life."

                "Maybe," Paris conceded, wishing that, just once, Ryan wouldn't sound so smug.

*              *              *

                Clad in sweats and running shows, Tristan heard the phone ringing as he locked his apartment door before heading out.  He hesitated, but decided that if it was really important, whoever it was would leave a message.  Putting it out of his mind, he headed for the elevator.

                The car was empty when he boarded it, and he propped one foot up on the handrail to stretch.  He was still in that position when the elevator stopped three floors down, and a pretty brunette stepped on, carrying a laundry basket.

                Awkwardly, he put his foot on the floor as she smirked at him.  "Hey there handsome.  Going for a run?" she asked, her voice husky, sexy.

                "Yeah.  Doing laundry on New Year's Eve?" he teased with a grin.

                "Yep."

                "Hard to believe, a beautiful woman like you not going out tonight."

                "Maybe I couldn't find anyone to go out with," she replied, a flirtatious tone entering her voice.

                "I doubt that," he said, his own voice getting slightly lower and deeper.

                "What about you?" she countered.  "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

                "Truth?"

                "That would be refreshing."

                "The woman I'm in love with is practically engaged to my business partner."

                "Ouch."  She paused, and then said, "New Year's resolution."

                "Pardon?"

                "I promised myself that I wasn't going to start the new year by getting trashed and waking up next to some guy whose name I couldn't remember."

                "I see.  Well, I suppose you probably shouldn't ride an elevator with a nameless guy, either.  I'm Tristan DuGrey."

                The woman shifted her laundry to one hip, gave him a beaming smile, and stuck out her hand.  "Brooke Davis.  It's nice to meet you, Tristan."

                "Pleasure to meet you, too."  He waited a beat, then added, "You know, I really don't need to go running, and I'm guessing your laundry isn't a pressing matter.  What do you say to a cup of coffee?"

                Her brown eyes sparkled, and her dimples deepened.  "That sounds nice."

                "Great.  I'll go change, and you can drop off your clothes, and we can meet in the lobby in, say, ten minutes?"

                "Perfect."

To be continued… 


	31. He's got to follow his own path No one ...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners.  What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Priya, who prodded me in the direction of the Trory Secret Valentine fics, thereby providing me with some much needed inspiration.  Shout-outs to Jamie, Ash, Janine, and toughfluff, who give me all the love and props I could possibly want.

Incidentally, this chapter's title quote is from _Star Wars_.  I realize that I've used that particular movie before, but it's been my favorite for going on 23 years now, so I feel entitled to do whatever I want with it.  That, and it's my story anyway. J

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**By Grace**

Part Thirty-one: "He's got to follow his own path.  No one can choose it for him."

                Tristan and Brooke were nursing their second cups of coffee before they advanced the conversation beyond the usual getting-to-know-you pleasantries.  They had bonded over their shared love of North Carolina—it turned out she had grown up about twenty miles from where he had attended military school.

                Finally, she said, "So tell me about your business partner's almost-fiancé."

                Tristan dunked a piece of biscotti in his coffee and avoided her gaze.  "It's a long, boring story.  I'm sure you wouldn't be interested."

                She flashed him another dimpled grin.  "You'd be surprised."  Brooke paused, and leaned back in her chair.  "Tell you what—I'll share some of the dirty details of my pathetic love life, and you'll see how much better your story is."

                "I don't know if I believe _that_, but go for it."

                "You actually remind me a lot of the first guy that I truly fell for.  It was high school, of course, and I was enjoying it to the fullest.  Cheerleading, parties, hot guys, the works.  But then I met Luke.  At first, he seemed totally hung up on my best friend, but eventually I won him over with my undeniable charms."  She laughed, but it was tinged with bitterness.

                "So what happened?"

                "Oh, you know, the usual.  We dated, I fell for him, and he cheated on me with my best friend."

                "Brooke, I'm so sorry."

                "Don't be!  After all, _you_ didn't cheat on me."

                "Then I apologize on behalf of the entire male gender.  We're all jerks, especially in high school.  Trust me—I was a jerk in high school.  That's part of the reason I got shipped off to military school."

                "At least you learned from your mistakes."

                "What about Luke?  Did he ever learn?"

                "I don't know.  I haven't seen or heard from him in years."  She paused.  "You want to know the really sick part?"

                "What's that?"

                "Ever since, I've been convinced that every guy I dated was going to cheat on me.  After all, if a great guy like Luke couldn't stay faithful, how could anyone else?"

                "He couldn't have been that great, if he cheated on you."

                Brooke sighed, and stared into her coffee.  "That's the thing.  Luke was an amazing guy.  But we were young, and there was a lot going on, and he made a mistake.  A mistake that I never let him live down."

                "If I didn't know better, I'd think you still have feelings for him."

                "You've known me an hour, Tristan.  How could you possibly know better?"

                "Are you saying that you do still have feelings for him?"

                "All I'm saying is that if I had the opportunity to see him again, I wouldn't pass it up."

                "Reminds me of how I feel about Rory.  Kind of."

                "So tell me about her, already!"

                "We never actually dated, but she intrigued me the first time I met her…"

*              *              *

                Rory and Ryan were taking a few turns around the makeshift skating rink at the festival, while Paris and Jess sat on a nearby bench, sipping hot apple cider.

                "I wonder what Tristan's doing tonight…" Paris mused.

                "Maybe Ryan's right—maybe he went out on the town.  Tristan does have a lot of connections in New York."

                Paris shook her head.  "You didn't talk to him.  There's no way he would have been in the mood for a party tonight.  Besides, even if he had gone out, he would have taken his cell phone with him."

                "Then maybe he just went to bed early.  He's a big boy—he doesn't need you worrying about him."

                "I can't help it.  I just want him to be happy."

                "Tristan has to find his own happiness.  You can't find it for him."

                She exhaled loudly.  "I know that.  I just wish Rory wasn't being so stupid."

                "Regardless of what you may think of him, I think you need to accept that Ryan is going to be a part of our lives.  I really think that Rory is going to accept his proposal."

                "And I'm just supposed to sit back and let that happen?"

                "What else can you do?  You, Lorelai, and Lane have thrown Rory and Tristan together a ton of times, and nothing has happened."

                "Not true.  Rory and Tristan kissed on Christmas Eve."

                "Yes, they did—under the mistletoe.  After which they decided it meant nothing."

                "_Rory_ decided it meant nothing.  Because she's stupid."

                "You're arguing in circles."

                "Hormones.  But that's not the point.  There has to be _something_ I can do."

                "Like what?  Tristan is effectively walking out of Rory's life tomorrow.  If that doesn't spur her to action, nothing will."

                "Maybe…" Her voice drifted off as she watched Rory and Ryan skate in awkward circles.  Jess followed her line of sight, and felt a frisson of trepidation uncurl in his stomach.

                "Paris, what are you thinking?"

                "It just occurred to me that with all the scheming and plotting we've been doing, I'm not sure anyone has tried _talking_ to Rory."

                Jess rolled his eyes.  "Okay, that's it.   I'm declaring a moratorium on all discussion of the Tristan-Rory-Ryan situation.  It's New Year's Eve, which means that tomorrow we're starting a whole different year in our life together.  We're going to become parents this year.  _Parents_.  That means you'll have a whole new life to mold and shape and just generally screw with."

                At that comment, Paris elbowed him hard in the ribs.  "Watch it."

                "Aw, you know I'm just teasing.  Sort of."

                "Do you _want_ to sleep on the couch?"

                "No.  Just—promise me you'll leave the Terrible Triangle alone until next year, okay?"

                She leaned into his body, taking comfort in his warmth.  "Fair enough."

*              *              *

                Brooke drained her coffee while pondering Tristan's story.  She set down the insulated cup, and asked, "Are you really going to go through with it?  Are you going to walk away from the life you've built because of unrequited love?"

                "I have to, Brooke, or I might lose my mind.  It's time to move on with my life, and I can't do that when I'm around Rory.  What would you do?"

                The dimples were shallow this time, the smile tired.  "I'd have been on that plane to Europe weeks ago.  But that's me.  Do you know the one thing I regret most about my relationship with Luke?"

                "What's that?"

                "That I didn't fight for him.  I berated him, I belittled him, and I made his life a living hell.  But never once did I try to make him see that I would have been better for him than Peyton.  I would have been, too.  She was one messed-up ball of emotional instability, and she fucked with Luke's head for years.  She was my best friend and I loved her, but she couldn't manage a healthy relationship with a 200-page manual.  She loved the idea of being with Luke, but she didn't know what to do once she had him."

                "So why did you let her have him?"

                Brooke shrugged.  "I was hurt and in high school.  I was too angry to think clearly, and it was easier to drink myself numb and sleep my way through the rest of the basketball team.  Then, as I got older, I started to think I had done the noble thing—they wanted each other, so who was I to stand in their way?  I was sacrificing my feelings to make them happy.  But they weren't happy—and neither was I."

                Tristan cocked his head and gazed at her thoughtfully.  "How many years of therapy did it take for you to figure all this out?"

                She threw her head back and laughed full out, a golden sound that echoed through the nearly deserted café.  "How do you know I didn't just go off to college and become deeply introspective?"

                Tristan simply arched an eyebrow at her.

                "Fine, you caught me.  I went to a shrink for three years.  Never told anyone I was doing it.  It was the best money I ever spent."

                "Sounds like it.  But this isn't a high-school relationship.  We're talking about potential marriage here."

                Brooke reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Tristan's.  "Doesn't that make it even more important to fight for?  This could be the rest of Rory's life.  Do you want to spend the rest of yours wondering if you could have been the one to make her smile every morning?  You love her.  Everyone deserves to know that they're loved.  And you deserve to tell her."

                Sighing, he squeezed her hand.  "You make a persuasive argument.  I can't promise you've changed my mind, but how would you feel about keeping me company at a little soiree tomorrow?  Maybe if you're next to me, slapping me upside the head enough times, I'll make the right decision for once in my life."

                "You want me to go to the party where you announce to the world that you're running away?"

                "If you're there, I might not run away," he pointed out.

                "I'm in."

*              *              *

                It was New Year's Day.  _How did it get to be New Year's Day?_ Rory wondered.  She smoothed back a miniscule wisp of hair that had slipped from her elegant chignon.  The diamond earrings her grandparents had given her for her twenty-first birthday winked and sparkled from her earlobes, and she lifted her favorite diamond-and-opal necklace off her dresser.

                "Excited about your big day?" Lorelai asked, stepping up behind her and taking the necklace from Rory's hands.

                She shrugged as her mother fastened the delicate gold chain around her neck.  "I guess it's a little bittersweet, actually.  This is an amazing new beginning for G & G, something that has the potential to open countless new doors for the business.  But at the same time, it feels like something is ending."

                Lorelai dropped her hands to Rory's shoulders, and searched her daughter's face in the mirror.  "Something like…working with Tristan?"

                "Mom, why do you keep doing this?"

                "Doing what?" Lorelai replied, feigning innocence.

                "Don't you think I've noticed how Tristan and I keep 'coincidentally' ending up together?"

                "Maybe it's fate," Lorelai countered.

                "And I suppose it's also fate that you, Lane, and Paris continually sing Tristan's praises while barely giving Ryan the time of day?"

                "We refer to that as 'taste,' actually."

                "Mom!"

                "Sorry.  I'm sure that Ryan is a very nice…robot."

                Rory was near tears now.  "What is so wonderful about Tristan DuGrey?  Ryan loves me and wants to marry me.  Why can't you just be happy for me?"

                Lorelai tugged on Rory's hand, and the two of them sat down on the bed.  "Because," she said gently," so far I haven't seen much evidence of you being happy for you.  You keep telling people that Ryan loves you, but how do you feel about him?  And as for people in love, Tristan is head-over-heels crazy about you."

                "Right," Rory scoffed.  "I sincerely doubt that Tristan DuGrey even knows the meaning of the word love."

                Lorelai stared at her daughter.  "After all this time, are you really still judging him on his sixteen-year-old behavior?  You've seen him with Emma and Charlotte, and I've seen him with you.  You know he's better than that now."

                "If he loves me so much, why hasn't he ever said anything?  I have a hard time imagining him in the role of noble, silent martyr.  He certainly never bothered to disguise his interest when I was with Dean."

                "Again, I remind you of defense exhibit A: he was sixteen.  Just out of curiosity, what would you do if Tristan suddenly expressed his feelings for you?"

                Rory's face blanched.  "I…I don't know.  But it's not going to happen anyway, because he doesn't _have_ feelings for me, so what difference does it make?"  She paused and exhaled loudly.  "Now come on, we need to finish getting ready for the launch party."  With one final glance in the mirror, she stalked out of her mother's bedroom.

                "My darling, stupid Rory," Lorelai murmured.  "The real question is, how do _you_ feel about Tristan?"

*              *              *

The car ride to Hartford started out quietly, at least for Rory and Ryan, who were driving in with Paris and Jess.  Luke, Lorelai, and their brood required a separate vehicle altogether.  After fifteen minutes of deathly silence, Paris spoke up.

                "Are you sure your speech is ready, Rory?  Remember, it's important that we make a good impression.  We're going up against on-line magazine juggernauts like _Slate_ and _Salon_.  Even trash like _Cosmo_ and _Vogue_ has had an online presence for years.  I told you we should have done this sooner.  The last thing we want is to be perceived as some worthless upstart trying to capitalize on a passe trend.  Internet editions are all but mandatory for the print media these days, and we're getting into the game in the seventh inning…"

                Rory tuned out Paris' rant as soon as her excitable partner swerved into baseball metaphors.  It had been decided that she would give the formal address at the launch today, since Paris had a tendency to allow her speeches to devolve into diatribes.  Plus, she didn't feel her six-month-along pregnancy presented the best image for the company, which Rory thought was nonsense.  Tristan would also be speaking on behalf of ILRG.  In truth, after the conversation with her mother, Rory was more concerned about seeing him than about the actual presentation.  She gave her head a mental shake.  This was getting ridiculous.  She simply needed to give Ryan an answer to his proposal and be done with it.  Then, perhaps, she could stop feeling as though she was being pulled in countless directions.

                Paris was still rattling on, working herself into a frenzy, when Jess pulled into the parking lot of the country club.  Rory's grandmother had insisted upon using her numerous connections to stage the launch party there.  Besides, Tristan's parents were also members there, and in the mind of Emily Gilmore, that was an additional plus.

                A frigid blast of wind assaulted Rory's cheek when she opened the car door, not bothering to wait for Ryan to come around and assist her.  Which, she realized with a glance behind her, he apparently hadn't planned to do anyway, since he was already halfway to the main entrance of the club.

                Slamming the door shut and pulling her calf-length wool coat tight around her slim frame, Rory walked around to the other side of the vehicle.  She positioned herself on the opposite side of Paris from Jess and the three of them slowly made their way to the building, not wanting the pregnant woman to slip on an errant patch of ice.  By the time they got inside, Rory couldn't feel her cheeks, and Ryan was nowhere in sight.  With an aggrieved sigh, she headed to the coatroom, where she accepted the claim check with a tight smile, since the muscles in her face were still frozen.

                As she turned around to leave, she ran smack into a gorgeous, smiling brunette woman—who was clinging to the arm of one Tristan DuGrey.

To be continued… 


	32. You are the most selfish human being on ...

Pairings: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note:  Fair warning—y'all are _not_ going to be happy after you read this chapter.  Bear in mind, I do have a plan for our beloved couple, and this is a part of that evil, evil plan.  You don't have to like it, but you will have to endure it.  I apologize in advance.

Incidentally, this chapter's title quote is from _Two Weeks Notice._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Thirty-two: You are the most selfish human being on the planet.  Well that's just silly.  Have you met everyone on the planet?

            "Tristan!  Hey!  Uh…what are you doing…oh, wait, I know what you're doing here…  So, yeah, who's your, um, friend?"

            He tried to hide a grin at Rory's flustered ramblings, but there was nothing he could do about Brooke, who was smiling widely at the other woman's hapless demeanor.  "Hello, Rory," he said smoothly.  "This is Brooke, um…Brooke…"

            "Davis," she murmured.

            _So much for smooth_, Tristan thought.  "Brooke Davis.  Right.  I knew that."

            Rory gazed thoughtfully at the lovely woman accompanying Tristan, a dull, heavy feeling settling in her stomach.  The woman—_Brooke_, she reminded herself—wore a gauzy, crimson, spaghetti-strapped cocktail dress that reached only to several inches above her knees, the matching scarf draped artfully around her slender neck.  Suddenly, the slate gray ankle length sheath she wore, with its modest scoop neck and coordinating fitted jacket, seemed dowdy and plain, rather than the elegant, sophisticated garment Rory had thought it in the store.

            Squaring her shoulders, Rory extended her hand and flashed Brooke a sweet, if tentative, smile.  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Brooke.  I'm Rory Gilmore.  How do you know Tristan?"

            Brooke smiled, and Rory found herself suddenly, inexplicably hating dimples.  "We only met yesterday, believe it or not.  But we hit it off so well, Tristan couldn't resist asking me to join him."

            "How…impulsive of him.  If you'll excuse me, I really must go find my date.  I'll see you later, Tristan."

            Her back ramrod-straight and her smile tight, Rory walked away from the "couple," ostensibly in search of Ryan.

            Brooke turned to Tristan, and gave an excited squeal.  "You _have_ to tell her the truth, Tristan!  Whether she knows it or not, that woman feels something for you.  She certainly didn't like seeing you with me."

            "Right," he scoffed.  "Rory just doesn't adapt well to unexpected situations.  It doesn't mean anything."

            "Sweetie, I know jealousy when I see it, and Rory was most definitely jealous.  Trust me.

            "I really want to believe you, Brooke, but I don't want to get my hopes up for nothing again."

            On the other side of the room, Rory managed to corner Paris, who had been happily ensconced beside a table heavily laden with appetizers.  "You are not going to _believe_ the floozy that Tristan showed up with," she hissed, fiercely stabbing a cube of cheese as she spoke.

            "Tristan has a floozy?" Paris replied mildly.  "It's about time that he had some fun.  Is it anyone I know?"

            "I doubt it, since he only met her _yesterday_."

            At that, Paris' head went up, her interest apparent.  "I guess he managed to enjoy his New Year after all."

            "Is that all you have to say?" Rory demanded to know.  "What kind of a…a _rake_ shows up to a business function with a one-night stand?"

            "First of all, you don't know that she's a one-night stand.  Second...ooh, stuffed mushrooms!"

            "Paris, focus!"

            "Right, right.  Second, Tristan is a single adult male.  He has every right to bring a date to whatever function he wants.  It's not as though he's Richard Gere in _Pretty Woman_, after all.  And third, why exactly is this bothering you so much?"

            Rory flushed an unattractive shade of red.  "It's just not _appropriate_."

            "What isn't appropriate?" Ryan asked, stepping up to the pair, cocktail in hand.

            "Tristan's _date_," Rory practically spat out.

            Ryan smirked.  "I must admit, he hasn't lost his touch with the ladies.  Did you hear that they only met yesterday?"

            "Men!" Rory growled in frustration before stalking off to find her mother.  Surely she would understand.

*          *          *

            "Tristan!  How lovely to see you again!"

            Tristan turned, and smiled graciously at the effusive woman headed his way, her more reserved husband in tow.  "Good evening Mrs. Gilmore, Mr. Gilmore.  It's a pleasure to see you again, too."

            Emily Gilmore tsked her disapproval.  "I've told you to call me Emily, dear.  Now, introduce me to your lovely companion."

            "Of course, where are my manners?  Brooke Davis, I'd like you to meet Emily and Richard Gilmore.  Emily, Richard, this is my friend Brooke."

            Pleasantries were exchanged all around, and soon Luke, Lorelai, Billy, Emma, and Charlotte joined the group.  After only a few minutes, everyone was laughing and talking like they were old friends.  Emma was settled comfortably on Tristan's hip, and Brooke was crouched down talking to Billy and Charlotte.

            That was the scene Rory stumbled upon when she came in desperate search of her mother.  Willing herself to seem composed, she approached the small crowd and tapped her mother on the shoulder.

            "Rory, there you are!  I was beginning to wonder if Paris, Jess, and Ryan had dumped you along the side of the road.  By the way, have you met Tristan's friend Brooke?"

            "Yes, we were introduced earlier."

            "Rory, you look lovely this evening," Emily piped up.

            "You certainly do," Richard agreed.  "I must be the envy of the room, surrounded by so many beautiful women."

            Rory suppressed a scream, and said quietly, "Mom, could I talk to you for a minute?"

            "Sure, honey.  Excuse me," she said to the group, "even after all these years, a girl still needs her mother."

            Moments later, Rory was practically dragging Lorelai across the room.  She didn't stop until they were safely inside the ladies' room.

            "What has gotten into you?" Lorelai demanded.  "This is an incredibly important evening for you and your business, and you're acting like a moody teenager!"

            "Gee, I wonder where I learned that habit!" she snapped back.

            "Don't think I don't know what this is about, young lady.  Your panties are in a twist because Tristan showed up with a date.  A beautiful, charming date, I might add."

            "This isn't about Tristan having a date!  This is about Tristan not knowing how to behave at a business function!"

            "The only one not behaving is you, Rory.  Tristan and Brooke have conducted themselves with the utmost decorum this evening.  Even your grandmother approves.  If you refuse to see what the real problem is, I'm not going to attempt to enlighten you."  And then, she left the bathroom, a stunned Rory in her wake.

*          *          *

            Rory had managed to regain a modicum of her composure after her mother abandoned her in the bathroom, and the evening proceeded fairly smoothly from that point.  Rory had rather studiously avoided Tristan and Brooke, but once the presentations began, she felt much more at ease.

            Rory was just wrapping up her speech, and she gazed out over the assembled crowd with a sense of pride and accomplishment.  She smiled as she concluded her presentation.  "Now, I'd like to turn the floor over to Tristan DuGrey.  Tristan is the founder of ILRG, Inc., and without him and his partner Ryan Salinger, this evening wouldn't be possible.  Tristan?"

            "Thank you, Rory."  Without a moment's hesitation, he launched into a polished, impressive presentation, which Rory only half-listened to.  Suddenly, though, something caught her attention.  "And now, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to take a moment to make an announcement.  My associates are also being caught unawares, and I apologize for catching them off guard like this.

            "I am very proud of the business that ILRG has become.  I poured my heart and soul into building an enterprise that I believed in, and I feel I've accomplished that.  Of course, none of it would have been possible without my trusted partner and friend, Ryan Salinger, as well as all the employees who have worked so hard over the years.

            "I feel, though, that I have come to a crossroads in my life.  The future stretches out before me, and there are two roads from which to choose.  There is the safe, comfortable road, the road in which I continue with ILRG for as long as they will put up with me.  I believe, though, that the time has come for me to follow the unknown, more difficult road.  Effective immediately, I am resigning my position at ILRG, Inc. to pursue other ventures."

            A gasp went up in the crowd, and then pandemonium broke loose.  Patiently, Tristan waited for it to subside.  "This hasn't been an easy decision for me to make.  Working with G & G Publishing, though, has felt like a crowning achievement.  I can't imagine surpassing what we have accomplished here, and I owe that feeling to two people.  Paris Gellar, without you this joint venture would never have occurred.  Your drive and your vision never fail to inspire me.  And Rory Gilmore—if someone had told me nearly ten years ago that we would be here today, I would have laughed.  Your dedication and creativity made you a joy to work with these past several months."  He paused, and glanced at his watch.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to Italy to catch."

            He descended from the stage, and made his way toward the exit at the back of the room, ignoring the chaos erupting around him.  Brooke caught him by the arm, and he stopped to face her.

            "What are you doing?" she hissed.  "I thought…"

            He didn't let her finish, smiling sadly as he said, "Brooke, I made the decision before I met you.  I wanted to believe that something could change my mind, but not even you could make that happen.  I'm sorry if I've disappointed you."

            "You didn't disappoint me, I just…I wish things could be different."

            Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan saw Rory approaching.  He quickly kissed Brooke on the cheek, and said, "I really do have to go.  I'll call you sometime.  I promise."

            He made it out to the parking lot before Rory caught up with him.  "Tristan!" she yelled into the frigid wind.

            His shoulders drooped in resignation, and he stopped and turned to face her.  "What is it, Rory?"

            "Why are you doing this, Tristan?  Why are you leaving without saying goodbye?  Are you aware that Emma is in hysterics inside?"

            He gazed seriously at her.  "And what about you?  How do you feel about my leaving?"

            "I…I don't want you to go."

            "Then give me a reason to stay."

            "I can't," she whispered.

            "Then I have to leave."

            "At least tell me why," she pleaded.  "Don't I deserve that much?"

            He laughed bitterly.  "I'm not sure you deserve anything, but I'll tell you anyway.  I'm in love with you, Rory, and I can't stay here and watch you marry Ryan.  I just can't.  So I'm leaving."

            He didn't give her time to respond, just turned and sprinted to his car.  He slammed the door with more force than necessary and twisted the key violently in the ignition.  As he waited for the car to warm up, he turned and watched Rory run back into the country club.  He left a few minutes later, never looking behind him.

            He never saw Rory come running back out of the building, Jess' keys clutched in her hand.

            He didn't see her peel out of the parking lot, determined to catch up with him.

            He didn't hear the blast of the semi's horn; didn't see the car spin out of control as Rory frantically tried to avoid the truck.

            He didn't see the crumpled remains of the car, or Rory's still, bloody form inside it.

            And when the ambulance screamed past him a few moments later, sirens wailing, lights flashing, it never occurred to him that it was racing to save the life of the woman he loved.

_To be continued…_


	33. The happiest man alive could use this mi...

Pairings: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note:  The Cubs are predicted to win the World Series, and I'm putting out two chapters in two days.  Obviously, the Apocalypse is nigh.  Anyway, this chapter goes out to Roxy, because she's cool, and to Jamie, because she writes fantastic smutty Trory goodness.

I apologize in advance if anything seems implausible from a medical standpoint.  My medical knowledge is largely gleaned from _ER_, which I don't even watch anymore.

Incidentally, this chapter's title quote is from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._

**Unholy ****Alliance******

**by**** Grace**

Part Thirty-three: The happiest man alive could use this mirror like a regular mirror; he would see himself the way he is.

            As Tristan was parking his car in the rental return at Bradley International Airport, his cell phone began to ring.  Glancing down, he saw that the caller was Paris, and he groaned.  There was no way he was answering it.  There would be plenty of time for her accusations, recriminations, and overall dressing-down of him.  Right now, he was just going to focus on getting the hell out of Dodge.  Resolutely, he ignored the persistent ring.  When it started up again two minutes later, he simply turned the phone off.

            Back in Hartford, Paris snapped her phone shut in irritation.  "Where the hell is he?  Why isn't he answering his phone?"

            Calmly, Jess pointed out, "He probably doesn't want to talk to anyone right now.  I'm sure he thinks you're just going to scream at him for running away.  It's not like he has any idea what happened to Rory."

            "Well, he should know what happened!  It's because of him that she went flying out of here like a bat out of hell!  He _must_ have said something to her."

            "You're not blaming him for the accident, are you?"

            "Of course not.  But that doesn't mean I don't think he should be here, by our sides.  By _her_ side."

            Sitting in the waiting area of Hartford Hospital, Paris and Jess looked up as Luke and Lorelai came bursting through the Emergency Room doors.  After the accident, Paris, Jess, and Ryan drove Richard and Emily's car to the hospital, theirs having been totaled in the crash.  Luke and Lorelai had taken the three children, along with Richard and Emily, to Lorelai's parents' house, where they would watch them while Luke and Lorelai were at the hospital.

            "Any word yet?" Lorelai asked, her face tear-stained but composed.

            Paris shook her head.  "No one's come out to tell us anything."

            "Dammit, what's taking so long?"  It was clear her fragile control was slipping.  "My baby is in there, and no one even has the decency to tell us what's going on?"

            Luke wrapped an arm around his trembling wife.  "I'm sure someone will talk to us as soon as they can. Do you want me to find you some coffee?"

            She nodded, and allowed him to lead her to one of the chairs beside Paris and Jess.  "Keep an eye on her, okay?" he said quietly to his nephew.

            "Where's Ryan?" Lorelai asked abruptly.

            Paris scowled.  "In the bathroom.  Apparently he doesn't 'do well' with hospitals, and when they wheeled somebody through from the ambulance bay, he completely lost it.  Useless man, if you ask me."

            "Have you…have you managed to reach Tristan yet?"

            Paris shook her head.  "No.  I think he's ignoring my calls.  Probably just thinks I'm calling to yell at him.  Which I plan to do, of course, but this is more important, obviously."

            Luke returned with a steaming cup of coffee just as a doctor came out into the lobby.  "Is the family of Lorelai Gilmore here?"

            Lorelai shot to her feet.  "I'm here.  I'm her mother, Lorelai Gilmore.  Lorelai Danes.  Lorelai Gilmore-Danes.  Dammit, how is my daughter?"

            "Please calm down. Lorelai…"

            "Rory.  Her name is Rory."

            "Alright.  Rory sustained massive trauma during the crash.  She's bleeding internally, and there's some swelling around her brain.  She's being taken into surgery now, and we'll know more soon."

            Lorelai sank back into her chair, shaking.  "Is there anything we can do?" Luke asked.

            "Not really.  If you'd like to donate blood, they can tell you how at the nurse's desk.  Right now, unfortunately, it's a waiting game.  We'll see how she comes through the surgery, and go from there.  She's in good hands, I promise you that."

            "Thank you, doctor," Luke said, extending his hand to the other man.  "Let us know when you hear something."

            "I will."  He walked away, and Luke turned to his wife.  "It's going to be okay, Lorelai.  They'll take good care of her."

            Lorelai nodded.  "I think we need to call Christopher."

            Luke nodded, and fished her cell phone out of her purse.  "I'll go take care of it.  You stay here."

            He walked out to the vestibule, and stared at the electronic contraption in his hand for a moment.  Tentatively, he began poking various buttons, and finally found an entry labeled "Chris."  Hitting the talk button, he braced himself for the conversation.  "Hi, this is Luke Danes.  You need to come to Hartford Hospital.  It's Rory."

*          *          *

            Brooke Davis sat in the opulent ballroom of the country club, her eyes damp with tears.  After the announcement had been made about the accident, many of the guests had left, but there were still quite a few milling about, gossiping.  She was, for all intents and purposes, stuck here, since her date had left.  She was pretty sure Tristan didn't even realize what he had done.  She wondered if anyone had managed to get a hold of him yet.  On impulse, she reached for her cell phone and dialed his number.  It went immediately to voice mail, and she left a brief message.  "Hey loverboy, it's Brooke.  You left a little chaos back here.  Call me when you get this."

            She ended the call, and stared off into space for a few minutes.  Love certainly made people do crazy things.  Although she didn't know exactly what had conspired between Tristan and Rory, she was sure he would feel guilty and blame himself for her accident.  She wondered what would happen to the young woman that she had only just met.  Brooke had wandered outside earlier, and seen the police cars, ambulance, and fire truck crowded around the tiny crumpled vehicle.  She couldn't bring herself to step close enough to see Rory, afraid of what the scene might reveal.

            Life was too short, she decided.  Everyone danced around each other, so careful not to do or say the wrong thing.  No one wanted to take a risk, forgetting that simply living was the greatest risk of all.

            Resolutely, she dialed a familiar number on her cell phone.  "Peyton?  Hi, it's Brooke."

            "I'm okay.  Things are a little crazy here.  How are you?"

            "Wow, I can't believe that Patrick is almost two years old already.  How are Jake and Jenny?"

            "That's great.  It sounds like things are really going well for you guys.  Look, I know this is a little out of the blue, but…do you know how to get in touch with Lucas?"

            "He's living _where_?"

            "That is so bizarre.  I mean, I know it's a big city, but that makes it seem like such a small world.  How come you never mentioned it before?"

            "Yeah, I guess I'm not sure I wanted to know before either.  So you have his number?"

            "Great, thanks.  Look, I have to go, but let's try to keep in better touch, okay?  I miss you, babe."

            "You too.  Love you forever.  Bye."

            She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed one more time.  This time, the voice on the other end was warm and familiar, an echo from the past.  "Lucas?  This is Brooke…Brooke Davis, from Tree Hill…"

*          *          *

            Tristan settled comfortably into his seat in first class, a blanket across his lap and a pillow behind his head.  He had made a short hop from Bradley to JFK in New York, changed planes, and was now ready to continue on to Rome.  As he watched the last few coach passengers board the plane, he pulled out his cell phone and turned it on.  He wanted to check his messages before the flight crew decreed cell phones off-limits for the duration of the flight.

            His eyes widened in fear and panic as he listened to Paris' strident voice.  "Tristan, call me immediately.  Rory was in an accident, and she's being rushed to the hospital.  I don't know where you are, but you'd better get your ass back here on the double."

            He turned off the phone and shot to his feet, earning a disapproving glare from the businessman in the seat beside him.  Immediately, a flight attendant was by his side.  "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to sit down and fasten your seatbelt."

            "You don't understand—I have to get off this plane."

            "I'm afraid that simply isn't possible, sir.  We've already pulled away from the gate, and we'll be taking off momentarily."

            "Then turn the plane around, or pull up some of those rolling stairs or something!  I can't be on this flight!"

            The female flight attendant was joined by a much burlier male counterpart.  "Sir, if you don't sit down immediately, we will be forced to report you to the authorities, who will meet you upon our landing in Rome."

            Reluctantly, Tristan sat down.  "Can I at least make a phone call?  It's something of an emergency."

            The woman's face softened a tiny bit.  "I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to wait until we reach cruising altitude.  Then you can feel free to use our in-flight phone," she said, gesturing to the handset embedding in the seat back in front of him.

            "I suppose that will have to do," he replied.

*          *          *

            Seconds ticked by into minutes, and minutes dragged on into hours.  Finally, the doctor from earlier emerged in the lobby and headed for Luke and Lorelai.

            "How is she?" Lorelai asked, a note of panic in her voice.

            "Your daughter is out of surgery, and her condition has stabilized.  There was a lot of internal bleeding, which we managed to stop during surgery.  We had to remove her spleen.  The swelling around her brain has gone down significantly, but right now she is in a comatose state.  At this point, we don't know when she will emerge from it."

            "What does that mean?" Luke asked.

            "It means that for right now, the best thing for all of you to do is get some rest.  Rory has just had major surgery—regardless of how things go in the long run, she won't be waking up in the next several hours.  We'll be keeping an eye on her, monitoring her responses, and hopefully we'll be able to tell you more soon."

            "Thank you, doctor," Luke said.

            "Can I see her?" asked Lorelai.  "I want to see my baby."

            "She's in a post-op recovery room right now.  I'll have someone let you know when she gets moved to a room in the ICU.  You'll be able to see her then."

            "Thank you," she whispered.

            Once the doctor was gone, she turned to face Rory's assembled family and friends.  Christopher still hadn't arrived from Boston, but they were expecting him any minute.  Ryan had finally emerged from the bathroom, although he was looking a little green around the gills.  Paris and Jess were still in the same chairs they had sat in upon arrival, stoic and silent.  "Jess, I want you to take Paris and Ryan back to the house in Stars Hollow.  There's no point in all of us sitting around here—you heard what the doctor said."

            "Lorelai, I want to stay," Paris protested.

            "Paris, you need to think about the baby right now.  Rory wouldn't want you to take any unnecessary chances because of her."

            This mollified Paris somewhat, and she nodded.  Ryan, it should be noted, offered no objection to leaving.

            Lorelai turned to her husband.  "Luke, why don't you go with them?  Christopher will be here soon, and he can sit with me."

            He wrapped his arms around her waist, his forehead resting on hers.  "I'm not leaving you and Rory.  Period."

            Fighting tears, she nodded.  "Paris, can you give my parents a call, let them know what's going on?  I just don't have the energy to talk to anyone."  She lowered her voice so Ryan couldn't hear.  "And please keep trying to get in touch with Tristan."

            Paris nodded.  "I will.  We'll come back tomorrow morning, first thing, okay?"

            Lorelai nodded, and sank down onto a loveseat, pulling Luke down beside her.  Resting her head on his strong shoulder, she settled in to wait.

*          *          *

            The plane had reached its cruising altitude of 35,000 feet, soaring high above the Atlantic Ocean.  Tristan practically ripped the telephone from the back of his seat, and hastily swiped his credit card to activate the appliance.  It seemed like forever before he heard a voice on the other end of a familiar number.

            "Hello?"

            "Paris, it's Tristan."

            "Where the hell are you?"

            "I'm on a plane headed for Italy.  I didn't get your message until just before take-off, and by then it was too late to do anything.  I'm sorry."

            "You know, if you had just answered the phone like a mature adult, instead of refusing to speak to me…"

            "Can we do this later?  I need to know what happened to Rory."

            "There was an accident.  Car v. semi.  The semi won."

            "Is she…okay?"

            "She's alive, but in a coma.  They had to remove her spleen."

            "Oh, God.  How did it happen?  When?"

            "It was right after you left.  She pulled out of the parking lot, and the truck hit her."

            "Right after I left?  How is that possible?  I saw her go back inside."

            "Apparently you didn't see her go back _outside_, after borrowing the keys to our car."

            "Where was she going?"

            "After you, I presume."

            He swallowed hard.  "Are you sure?"

            "Pretty sure.  She came flying in here after you left, mumbled something that included your name, and demanded to borrow our car."

            "This is all my fault," he moaned.  "No one…no one else was in the car with her?"

            "No, she was alone.  Now, how soon can you be back?"

            "I don't know.  My plane won't land in Italy for close to eight hours.  I'll try to catch the earliest flight back.  I'll call you when I know when it is."

            "Okay.  Hurry, please.  Tristan…did you say something to her before you left?"

            "I told her I loved her."  Without preamble, he hung up the phone.

            Miles away, in Stars Hollow, Paris stared at her phone, and muttered, "Well, shit."

_To be continued…_


	34. Well, that’s the hardest place to be, be...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note: It turns out that one of the "perks" of being unemployed is having more time to devote to my writing. That's not to say that I have actually been using my time effectively, or for that purpose, but it's nice to know that it's there. Anyway, I finally managed to crank out the next chapter of this fic, after Lord knows how long of a hiatus. I fear that some readers may find Jess to be out of character, but please have faith that he is still his devious old self.

And finally…this chapter's quote is from _The Princess Diaries_, which was my primary motivation for purchasing the Rooney CD.

****

Unholy Alliance

By Grace

Part Thirty-four: "Well, that's the hardest place to be, between friend, and, uh, friendlier."

Tristan had been awake for well over twenty-four hours, and it showed. He was running purely on fear and adrenaline, his nerves frayed to the breaking point after a round trip to Rome in less than a day. His world had narrowed to tunnel vision as he slid into his car and turned the key.

He had spoken to Paris earlier, before he got on the flight out of Italy, and was relieved to learn Rory was still stable after her first night in the hospital, albeit not out of the coma. Nevertheless, the guilt he felt was overwhelming. Rory was coming after _him_ when she nearly got killed. What he didn't understand was _why_.

Tristan made the twenty-minute drive to the hospital on autopilot, and headed straight up to the ICU. He found Paris and Jess in the waiting room. Paris pushed herself to her feet, her protruding belly preventing her from leaping, and threw her arms around him.

"I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I, finally," he replied. "Where's Lorelai?"

"She and Luke are in with Rory. Only two of us can go in at a time."

"Has she woken up yet?"

Paris shook her head.

"But she _will_ wake up, right?"

Paris glanced away. "Well…probably. The doctors say she came through the surgery really well, but with these types of injuries, there's always a chance…" she trailed off.

His eyes were wild with panic. "A chance of what? Level with me, Gellar. I need to know the truth."

It was Jess who responded. "There's a chance she won't wake up. Or, if she does, there could be brain damage."

Tristan sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. "This is all my fault," he moaned. "Lorelai must be ready to kill me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Paris snapped. "This isn't about you, Tristan. The only thing Lorelai is worried about is her daughter. This was a terrible accident—no one is going to hold you responsible for it."

Tristan snorted. "I bet RJ will, if he finds out what I did." He glanced around the small waiting room. "Where is RJ, by the way?"

Paris and Jess exchanged glances. "He said he'd be here later," Jess replied. "Since we can't all see her at once, he figured he didn't need to spend all day in, and I quote, 'that depressing place.'"

Tristan stared in shock at the couple. "I'm going to kill him," he breathed. "He should be here! What if she wakes up? How can he be so selfish at a time like this?"

"According to him, too much time in hospitals makes him panic, and he claims he'd just be a burden if he was here," Paris said.

"I don't care if hospitals make him break out in hives," Tristan growled. "Rory needs him, and he should be here for her. And I'm going to tell him that as soon as he drags his sorry ass down here."

"Talking about Ryan?" Lorelai asked. The trio turned and saw her standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on Luke. Tristan stood and made his way over to her. Taking her hands, he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Lorelai."

She pulled him into a fierce embrace. "Not your fault, kiddo, and I don't want you thinking for a second that it was. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How many times do I have to tell people not to call me 'ma'am'?" Lorelai sighed in exasperation. "Now go on, get in there—my baby girl needs you."

"Not as much as I need her," he replied before heading down the corridor.

Tristan paused outside Rory's room, bracing himself for what he was about to see. Swallowing hard, he pushed open the door. He cringed at the sight before him, although it really wasn't any worse than he'd expected. Rory was even paler than usual, and the variety of softly beeping monitors she was hooking to created an eerie disharmony within the room.

A chair had been pulled close to the side of the bed, so Tristan sat down and took Rory's hand in his, being mindful of the IV protruding from her ashen skin.

"Geez, Rory, how did this happen? Why'd you do it? Why'd you come after me? You weren't supposed to come after me." Unconsciously, he ran his free hand through his hair. "You were supposed to go back inside, pretend I never said anything, and live your life happily ever after with RJ. Who, I might add, should really be the one sitting here holding your hand. Not that I mind," he hurried to add, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "It's just that I can't understand why he's _not_ here. If you were mine…" he stumbled slightly, and cleared his throat before continuing. "If you were mine, I'd never leave your side. Doesn't he realize how lucky he is? I know you're not going to remember what I'm saying, and you're probably going to hate me when you wake up, but…I _do_ love you, Rory, so much. And I need you to wake up. Even if you never want to speak to me again, I don't think I can bear living in this world if I don't know you're out there somewhere in it. Your friendship means so much to me, and I don't want to lose that, but I'll sacrifice anything if you'll just wake up. I love you, Rory."

"Trying to steal me girl, I see," a cold voice said.

Tristan dropped Rory's hand and sprang to his feet, spinning around to face RJ. At first, a pang of guilt assailed him, but then anger took over. "About damn time you showed up," he spat out. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Don't try to turn this around on me. You're the one skulking in a hospital room, professing your undying love for my fiancée."

"She hasn't said yes yet," Tristan said quietly.

"Oh, you're just clinging to that little detail, aren't you? It's only a matter of time, and you know it. She doesn't love you. She never has and she never will."

Tristan shrugged. "Maybe not. But what's going to happen when she wakes up and realizes you couldn't be bothered to be with her?"

Ryan's face hardened. "I don't do well with hospitals."

Tristan advanced on his former business partner, his countenance threatening. "I don't care if they make you break out in a cold sweat and cause terror-induced hallucinations. You _will_ spend every waking moment in this hospital until Rory wakes up, or so help me God, when she does, I am going to tell her every rotten, sneaky, underhanded thing you've ever done. And then we'll just see if she accepts your proposal."

RJ didn't back down. "I really doubt you want to threaten me, T. I'm sure you have plenty more skeletons in your closet than I do—enough to make Lorelai never want to see you again."

Tristan smirked. "That's where you're wrong, buddy-boy. _Rory_ has known since she was sixteen years old that I'm an asshole. It doesn't seem to bother her these days. You, on the other hand, have played up your good-guy image to the hilt. Wouldn't she be surprised to learn you're just as human as the next guy?"

A hint of fear shadowed RJ's eyes. "You can't do this, Tristan. You may not believe it, but I do love Lorelai. I want to marry her. You could have any woman in the world with a snap of your fingers. Why her?"

"Because I love her too. But I promise, if you do right be her, I won't get in the way."

RJ looked skeptical. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Why are you being so noble?"

Tristan's smile was sad. "I just want Rory to be happy, man. For once in my life, I want to do the right thing."

"I appreciate that. I'm prepared to fight for her, T—fight dirty if I have to. So you'd better not be trying to pull a fast one on me."

"Understood. Look, you probably want some time alone with Rory, so I'll, uh, be in the waiting room."

"Okay. See you later."

"Yeah. Later."

When Tristan returned to the ICU waiting room, Lorelai was fast asleep on Luke's shoulder. Christopher had also arrived, after taking a brief nap and a shower at his parents' house. The two men, along with Paris and Jess, looked up when he entered the room.

"Any change?" Christopher asked, a modicum of hope in his voice.

"No. RJ's in there with her now. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you joined him."

"Thanks. I think I will."

When Christopher was gone, Tristan sank down into an overstuffed chair across from Paris and Jess.

"You look like hell," Paris commented.

"Gee, thanks."

"So…Ryan finally showed up," she said.

"Yeah. I have a feeling he'll be here more often from now on."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really? What makes you think that?"

Tristan sneaked a glance at Luke. The older man appeared to be completely focused on his sleeping wife, but he hadn't gone deaf. He turned back to Paris and Jess, and shrugged. "Let's just call it a hunch."

Paris nodded, understanding that he didn't want to talk about it. "You really do look awful. Why don't you go home, get some rest, and come back in a few hours?"

He shook his head. "I gave up the apartment in Rory's building, and I don't especially feel like facing my parents. Besides, I want to stay here—just in case."

"At least try and get some sleep, okay?" she requested, her concern evident.

"Yes, mom," he teased. "Man, you haven't even _had_ the baby and you're already nagging."

Paris turned to her husband. "Hit him for me, please."

Jess held up his hands in mock surrender. "No way. I'm not getting in the middle of this."

"Useless man," she grumbled. Turning back to Tristan, she smiled. He was sound asleep in his chair, overcome by sheer exhaustion. His head was tipped back, his mouth slightly open. "Apparently our marital bickering put him to sleep. Ouch!" she exclaimed with a wince.

"What's wrong?" Jess asked.

"Nothing. The baby's kicking, that's all."

His expression softened, and he placed his hand on her stomach with an attitude approaching reverence. "Wow. The kid's got quite a kick. What do you think—soccer player or punter in the NFL?"

Paris scowled. "Neither. No child of mine is going to contribute to a national obsession that comes at the expense of education and the arts."

Jess chuckled. "I'd argue, but…I don't really like sports."

"Good. Oh, look, Ryan and Christopher are out of the room. We're next."

"You go ahead. I want to talk to Ryan for a minute."

Paris sighed. "I'd tell you not to hurt him, but we're already at the hospital, so I guess this is as good a place as any.

Jess grinned and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm not going to hurt him. Too many witnesses."

"That's _so_ encouraging."

"Go on, I'll catch up in a few minutes."

"Behave."

"Don't I always?"

With one last warning glance at her husband, Paris waddled from the room.

"Hey Ryan," Jess greeted him. "Have a nice visit with Rory?"

He glanced at Tristan before replying. "Oh, sure. It would have been better if she was conscious, but beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Jess carefully schooled his features into an expression of neutrality. Had this guy always been such an idiotic jackass? "Walk with me."

"Sure…" Ryan said hesitantly. He waited until they were out in the hallway before asking, "What's up?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to chew you out. This has obviously been a very stressful time for all of us. We all just want what's best for Rory. I know you've been catching hell for not being here more, and I want you to know that I'm not trying to add to that. You need to do what's right for you."

"I don't know. Tristan…"

"Don't worry about Tristan. I'll handle him."

Ryan looked wary. "Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said, I just want what's best for Rory. If hospitals freak you out, I don't know, those negative vibes might be detrimental to her recovery or something."

The other man looked relieved. "Wow. Thanks. I was really starting to feel like no one understood."

"Sure. I just want you to feel comfortable."

"Thanks. You know, I think I'll head back to the house for a while."

"You do that. Take your time. We'll be here."

Ryan reached out to shake his hand. "Thanks, again, Jess. This means a lot to me."

"No problem. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah, I'll be back."

Jess watched as the other man practically ran down the hall, and then went to join Paris is Rory's room. "How's she doing?" he asked.

"No change. How was your little chat with Ryan?"

"Fine. He's on his way back to the house now."

"He's _what_?" Paris hissed. "Tristan will go ballistic! Why didn't you stop him?"

"Actually, I encouraged him. I told him that I understand how _difficult_ it is for him to be here."

"Why the hell would you do that? How could you side with him?"

Jess grinned. "You underestimate me, Paris. I thought you knew better than that by now. You're not looking at the big picture. Rory needs to see Ryan's true colors. How can that happen if Tristan forces him to be here? She'll wake up and find Ryan by her side, reinforcing her belief that he's the perfect guy from her. Tristan might be willing to be all noble and step aside, but I'm not ready to stand back and watch that happen. Rory needs to see all the players in this fucked-up game."

"You are so incredibly devious," she murmured. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

"And here I thought it was your undying love and devotion."

"That too. But your ability to be as focused and manipulative as I am is a definite plus."

"Thanks. I love you too, Frenchie."

Their conversation tapered off, and they turned their attention to Rory. "I wish she would wake up," Paris whispered.

"She will," Jess assured her. "It's just a matter of time."

"I hope you're right. You know, I checked the web site this morning. We've gotten twice as many hits as expected, and I know it's because of Rory's accident." She sighed. "I don't want success at the expense of my best friend," she said softly.

Jess wrapped his arms around her. "I know, but look at it this way—Rory will be so excited when she wakes up and you tell her."

Paris settled back into his embrace. "Right. When she wakes up."

To be continued…


	35. There she will be awakened by True Love'...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note: Mwahahahaha! Just when I have y'all really and truly believing that this story is dead, I resurrect it once again. As always, no promises on when the next update with be, but I do think that you will at least be pleased with the direction the story is _finally_ taking.

Ash, this one's for you…because B called.

Finally, this chapter's title quote is from, fittingly enough, _Sleeping Beauty._

**Unholy Alliance**

**By Grace**

Part Thirty-five: "There she will be awakened by True Love's first kiss…"

Even at three o'clock in the morning, the hospital wasn't completely quiet. Assorted machinery in every room whirred, clicked, and beeped. Doctors and nurses carried on conversations; their hushed tones somehow carrying clearly down the corridors. Through it all, Tristan slept. He barely moved when the nurses came in every hour to check Rory's vitals. Exhaustion had well and truly claimed him.

Rory had been in a coma for nearly two weeks, and while the doctors were optimistic that she would come out of it, they simply couldn't predict when it would happen. For the people that loved her, life had regained an odd sense of normalcy. The routine was new, but the repetition unchanged.

Paris and Jess had gone back to work, their hearts heavy but their hands incapable of remaining idle. Luke was back at the diner, although his thoughts were never far from the woman he considered his oldest daughter. Chris had returned to Boston, work and other responsibilities making it impossible for him to remain at his first-born's side. Ryan was in New York, upon Tristan's insistence that ILRG not be allowed to flounder. In truth, it hadn't taken much convincing. When Ryan protested that Tristan should go as well, he was reminded of his now-former partner's resignation on New Year's Day.

And so it was Tristan and Lorelai who kept the daily vigil at Rory's side. Each night, Luke would drive to Hartford, and drag Lorelai from the hospital. Her other children still needed her, and he insisted she sleep in her own bed.

But there was no one to impose similar demands on Tristan, no one waiting for him at home. And so he stayed at the hospital day and night, several days' growth of stubble on his face, the bags under his eyes an ever-darkening purple.

He had stopped counting the hours he had sat there staring at her. His very own Sleeping Beauty. Once, when no one was watching, he had stolen a quick kiss in the hope she would awaken. Predictably, nothing had happened.

When Lorelai was there with him, they would sometimes talk quietly, and even play cards on occasion. But mostly they just sat, silently watching and waiting.

When Tristan was alone with Rory, he would read to her from the Hartford _Courant_ and New York _Times_ until he was hoarse. He played CDs by artists that he knew she liked. He had fresh flowers delivered to her hospital room every day. And in the dead of night, when sleep refused to grant him peace, he spoke to her. He talked of everything and nothing—his opinions on world events, the latest player the Chicago Cubs had acquired, stories from his childhood, tales of his grandfather. And when he ran out of words, he always said, "I love you, Rory," before lapsing into silence.

His devotion became the hot topic of conversation among the nurses on the wing, and they sort of adopted him. There was always a hot meal for him when he was there alone, and although he rarely noticed it, the nurses frequently dropped by with soda or candy or other snacks to share. They grew concerned as he lost weight and didn't sleep, but there was nothing else they could do.

And finally, that night, he slept. Ashley, a young nurse with a ready smile and a kind heart, was pleased to see him slumbering deeply when she came in for her 3:30 am rounds. She set her pen and clipboard down on the bedside tray, and pulled the thin hospital-issue blanket higher up onto his weary body. He didn't react at all and, satisfied, she turned back toward her patient—and promptly knocked her clipboard on the floor.

She winced when he jolted awake at the clatter, his eyes wide and confused. "Rory?' he mumbled.

"Sorry, it was just me," Ashley whispered. "I'm such a klutz."

"'s okay," he muttered.

"I'll be out of here in just a minute, and you can go back to sleep."

He nodded and then pushed himself up and out of the chair, heading for the bathroom.

Silently chastising herself, Ashley turned back to the bed—and watched Rory Gilmore's eyes flutter open. Shocked, she managed a gentle smile, and said, "Welcome back, Ms. Gilmore. How do you feel?"

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident, and you've been in a coma."

"How long?"

"Nearly two weeks. You gave everyone quite a scare."

A note of panic crept into Rory's voice. "Where's my mom? Where's Ryan?"

The nurse hid her surprise that the young woman made no mention of the man who had stayed so patiently beside her.

Hidden by the shadows of the partly open bathroom door, Tristan heard Rory's question and slipped unnoticed from the room. He went outside, the bitter cold of Hartford in January driving the final vestiges of sleep from him. Pulling out his cell phone, he quickly called Stars Hollow. "Luke? It's Tristan. She's awake."

"We'll be right there," the older man said gruffly, and hung up.

Bracing himself, Tristan dialed another familiar number. "RJ, it's Tristan…"

Three minutes later, his duties as a friend fulfilled, Tristan DuGrey drove off into the night.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Lorelai burst into Rory's hospital room, with Luke following at a more sedate pace. Lorelai immediately swept her daughter into a hug, tears streaming down her face. "I was so afraid I'd lost you. Don't _ever_ do that to me again."

Rory smiled weakly. "I'll do my best, mom."

Lorelai drew back slightly, as if suddenly remembering something. "Where's Tristan?"

Rory stared at her in confusion. "I don't know. Why would Tristan be here?" Her voice grew bitter. "He left for Italy, remember?"

Ever so gently, Lorelai stroked her daughter's hair. "Sweetie, he came back as soon as he heard about the accident. He's hardly left your side since."

"Maybe…maybe he's with Ryan," Rory suggested.

Luke chuckled mirthlessly. "I doubt that."

That only added to Rory's puzzlement. "Why? What's going on?"

"Ryan is in New York, honey," Lorelai replied. "He went back to work a couple days after the accident."

"Oh…well, I'm sure they needed him there, since Tristan left the company."

Lorelai exchanged a pointed glance with Luke, but decided not to argue with her recently comatose daughter. "I'm sure Ryan will be here as soon as he can," she soothed.

Rory nodded, and leaned back against her pillows. "Wake me up when he gets here," she mumbled. Moments later, she was fast asleep.

Lorelai looked up at Luke, her concern evident. "My cell phone is in my purse. I need you to find Tristan. He deserves to be here."

Nodding, Luke fished the phone from her bag and exited the room.

* * *

Tristan stood in the darkness, staring up at Chilton's imposing edifice. The gates had been locked, but if there was one thing military school had taught him, it was how to scale a fence.

He hadn't meant to come here, but as he drove aimlessly through the quiet streets of Hartford, something seemed to draw him in this direction. When he realized, somewhat to his surprise, that he was near the school he once ruled with a golden touch, he had felt compelled to stop.

Snow crunched beneath his feet as he continued his wanderings. Nothing, it appeared, had changed since the last time he had trod these paths, so many years earlier. He often wondered how his life might have turned out if he hadn't broken into that damn safe. Where might he be now if he had actually studied junior year, instead of raising hell with Duncan and Bowman? Could he and Rory have cultivated a friendship then, instead of wasting so many years?

He supposed it didn't really matter. The past was the past. The important thing was that Rory had woken up—and asked for Ryan. Different day, same story. He paused as he came upon a bench along the pathway, and a memory came rushing back. The first time he and Rory had a "real" conversation…the first time his foolish sixteen-year-old self thought she might be more than just a conquest.

And then another memory—_"I might kiss you goodbye, but, uh, your boyfriend's watching."_ He had been noble then. He should be noble now.

But the stakes were higher. He loved her. Really, honestly loved her. And this noble thing was bullshit. It wasn't him. He was sneaky and underhanded and he played dirty.

It was time to fight for Rory Gilmore.

A new determination in his step, he headed back to his car. As he walked, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi Luke. Yeah, I'm actually on my way."

* * *

Rory Gilmore was having a lovely dream. She had finally found a man who loved her the way she wanted to be loved. He kept telling her how much he needed her, and that he couldn't live without her. It was all so perfect—but she couldn't see his face. All she could hear were the words, echoing over and over. _"I love you, Rory."_

She was pulled from her dream by the sound of voices nearby. Opening her eyes, she saw her mom and Tristan sitting beside her bed, talking quietly. Luke had just entered the room, holding a tray filled with four carryout coffee cups.

Conversation halted when they noticed she was awake. "Hi, honey," Lorelai said softly. "Did you have a nice nap?"

Sleepily, Rory nodded. "How long was I asleep?"

Lorelai glanced at her watch. "A little over two hours. How do you feel?"

"Kind of out of it. I don't really remember much. I mean, I know we were at the launch party, and you," she turned to Tristan, "announced you were leaving for Italy. But after that…nothing." She glanced down for a moment, her brows furrowing. "Have I really been here two weeks?"

"Just about," her mother replied.

"God, I can't believe—all that time is just _gone_. How…what happened? With the accident, I mean?"

This time, Luke responded. "You left the launch party. As you pulled out of the parking lot, you were hit by a semi."

"Was I by myself?"

They nodded.

"But…why was I leaving?"

"You were coming after me," Tristan replied quietly.

Rory turned to face him, her gaze steady, blue eyes no longer cloudy with sleep. "But why?"

Blue met blue as he stared determinedly back at her. "We argued. And I told you…"

Before he could finish, the hospital room door flew open. "Lorelai!" Ryan cried. "Thank God you're awake! I got here as fast as I could."

Rory looked up at him and smiled. A flash of her dream had come back to her. Ryan _had_ to be the man saying he loved her. "I'm glad you're here."

Rushing to her side, Ryan wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight. "I love you so much, Lorelai," he whispered.

At his words, Rory's eyes dimmed slightly. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

* * *

The five of them had been sitting and talking for nearly an hour when Nurse Ashley entered the room. "I know that you're all very excited to see Rory awake, but our patient does need her rest. I've been bending the rules as it is by letting you all stay this long."

Lorelai flashed a tired smile. "We really do appreciate it, Ashley. Thank you for taking such good care of my baby."

"It was my pleasure." She turned to Tristan. "Mr. DuGrey, I put your pillows and blanket in the closet if you need them. And will you want breakfast in the morning, as usual?"

An awkward silence descended on the group. Finally, it was broken by RJ, who asked tensely, "Tristan will be staying the night?"

Ashley looked stricken, as she belatedly realized she had said something wrong. "I'm…uh, I just assumed," she stammered. "I mean, he's been here practically every night…"

Which was _also_ not the right thing to say…

Ryan turned to face his former partner. "You've been here practically every night," he repeated slowly. "You want to tell me what the hell that's all about?"

Tristan met his gaze without flinching. "Rory is my friend, RJ. I care about her, very much."

"Her _friend_? Paris and Jess are her friends. Where are they?"

"Paris is pregnant, remember?" Tristan spat out. "She can't spend all her time in a hospital. At any rate, she's been here plenty."

"Right," Ryan was openly skeptical.

Tristan was getting angry now. "Exactly what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that you're not acting like just a friend."

"How _am_ I acting?"

"Like more than a friend!" RJ shouted.

"If being by her side day and night is something 'more than a friend' would do," Tristan said carefully, "then where the hell have you been?"

Ryan's face flushed an angry shade of scarlet. "Where do you get off…"

"Enough!" roared Luke. "We are in a hospital! If you want to have a pissing contest, take it outside."

"I'm not leaving," Ryan announced.

Rory's voice was just above a whisper, but it carried weight. "Ryan, please, just go. We'll talk about this later."

Obviously incensed, he bit out, "Fine," and strode from the room.

Lorelai leaned over and gave Rory a kiss, murmuring, "Get some rest, kiddo. We'll be back when it's daylight."

Luke squeezed her shoulder. "Sleep well."

"Thanks Luke. I'll see you guys later."

While Luke and Lorelai said their goodbyes, Tristan put on his coat and prepared to slip from the room. Before he could make his escape, Rory said, "Tristan, wait."

It was Luke and Lorelai's turn to make an unheeded exit, which they quickly did, leaving Rory and Tristan alone.

"Have a seat," she said softly. "We need to talk."

_To be continued…_


	36. Does he make you laugh? He doesn't make...

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note: It is the fic that never ends/It just goes on and on my friends… Yes, it's back again. I make no promises as to when Part 37 might arrive.

Finally, this chapter's title quote is from the delightful _Ocean's Eleven._

**Unholy Alliance**

**By Grace**

Part Thirty-six: "Does he make you laugh?" "He doesn't make me cry."

"_We need to talk._" The words echoed ominously in Tristan's mind as he took a seat beside Rory's bed. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked.

"I may have just woken up from a coma, but I'm not stupid. I want to know what's really going on here. Why are you and Ryan at each other's throats?"

He didn't sare meet her gaze. "It's complicated."

"Tristan." Her voice held reproach. "Talk to me. If it has anything to do with me, I think I have a right to know."

"Maybe you do."

She flashed a triumphant smile. "So it _does_ have something to do with me."

Slowly, he nodded.

"Start talking, DuGrey."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Tell me..." Her voice shook slightly. "Tell me what happened before the accident."

"You followed me out to the parking lot, and we...argued."

"About what?"

"You asked me not to go, and I told you I couldn't stay."

"Why not?" she pressed. "What's so terrible that you have to leave?"

He chuckled mirthlessly. "The last time I answered that question, you ended up in a coma."

"I don't think we have to worry about that happening again. Please tell me, Tristan. I need to know."

He forced himself to look at her when he answered. "I can't stay here and watch you marry Ryan."

Her eyes widened, and her voice was barely above a whisper. "Why not?"

He sounded almost defeated when he replied, "Because I love you, Rory."

She gasped, and then the room began to spin. _I love you, Rory._ The words she had heard over and over in her head...the words Ryan could have never said...Ryan, who always called her Lorelai, never Rory...

Tristan's features were etched with concern as he reached over and grasped her hand. "Rory, are you okay? Rory? Rory!"

Finally, the fear in his voice penetrated the swirling confusion in her mind. "Yes, I'm...fine."

"Are you sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She gripped his hand tighter. "Yes, I just... That nurse, she said you were here every night. Did you...did you talk to me?"

He nodded, not sure where she was going with this.

"And did you tell me that you...loved me?" She practically squeaked the last two words.

Again, he nodded.

She stared at him, half in wonder, half in fear. "I think that maybe I could...hear you."

"You could...hear me?" he echoed, stunned.

"I think so. And I felt...safe, and happy. And when I woke up, I just assumed it had been Ryan, but then he got here and told me that he loved me, but something didn't seem right, and I couldn't figure out what it was, but then you said it, and you called me Rory, and I heard Rory in my dreams, but Ryan always calls me Lorelai, and..." She paused, breathing heavily. "You love me?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"But...how long?"

"A long time, Rory. Much too long, I think."

"And Ryan..."

"Ryan knows how I feel," he admitted. "I tried to step aside, but I can't. I don't want to."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to hear it. I don't exactly have the best track record with you," he pointed out.

"We were sixteen," she protested weakly.

Glancing down, he realized he was still holding her hand. He loosened his grip, but she didn't let go.

"Rory, I need to know how you feel about this. Maybe not this second, but soon." He swallowed hard before continuing. "If you're happy with Ryan and want to marry him, I won't try to get in the way. But if you think there might be any kind of a chance for us, I'm going to do everything in my power to convince you to take that chance."

"You're certainly not pulling any punches, are you?" she said with a weak smile.

"Not this time. Not with you. I'm tired of playing games, and I'm tired of pretending. Maybe you'll never love me, but I think I'd rather know one way or the other.

There were tears in Rory's eyes. "I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do now."

He reached over with his free hand and brushed her hair back from her face. "Just focus on getting better right now. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

"You promise?"

He smiled. "I promise. No more running off to Italy."

"Good." She yawned, obviously drained. "I like having you around."

"I like being around. Now get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

She closed her eyes without protest, her small fingers still wrapped around his hand. He watched her sleep for a long time, and then closed his eyes and settled in for the night.

* * *

Ryan was at the hospital bright and early the next morning, and to say he wasn't pleased to see Tristan still there was an understatement. He entered the room quietly, so as not to wake Rory, and said softly, in a voice filled with anger, "We need to talk."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately," Tristan muttered as he followed his former partner out of the room.

As soon as they reached the waiting room, Ryan whirled around, his eyes blazing. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve," he spat out.

Tristan eyed the other man. "Save it, RJ. She knows," he said wearily.

"Knows what?"

"She knows that I love her. I told her--again--last night. Whatever happens next is up to her."

"You don't love her. You're not capable of it," RJ sneered. "Lorelai knows that. She loves _me_, T. She's going to marry _me_. All you've succeeded in doing is embarrassing yourself."

"I'm not embarrassed," Tristan said calmly. "You, on the other hand, are definitely afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

Tristan's voice was low, taunting. "Afraid of the fact that she hasn't given you an answer to your proposal. Afraid that maybe now she never will. Afraid that she doesn't love you as much as you want her to."

"You're a bastard," RJ hissed.

His smile was practically feral. "Yes, I am. But then, that's never really been a secret, has it? Rory doesn't seem to mind. Do you know what she did last night after I told her I loved her?"

"What?" he ground out.

"She held my hand and made me promise not to leave," Tristn said with a smirk.

"She just came out of a coma. She probably didn't even realize what she was doing.

"Oh, she knew. And do you know what else she told me?"

"Enlighten me," he snapped.

"She told me that she could hear me when she was in her coma. She heard me tell her over and over that I loved her. She probably would have heard you too--if you had been there."

RJ was furious. He pulled back, and without hesitation sent a fist flying into Tristan's face. Blood erupted from his nose, and he yelled in pain and shock.

"Jesus, RJ, what the hell is your problem?"

RJ looked ready to punch him again. "What's _my_ problem? You're the one trying to steal me fiancée!"

"She's not your fiancée yet!"

Before RJ could respond, security appeared and pulled the two men away from each other. Just then, Luke and Lorelai walked in.

"What the hell's going on here?" Luke demanded to know.

"He punched me," Tristan growled.

"Did you deserve it?" Luke asked.

"Probably," he admitted.

Lorelai stepped in. "We're sorry about the disruption, officers, but we can take it from here. We'll make sure they stay out of trouble."

One of the officers, whose nametag read "Dunlap," nodded. "Okay, ma'am, but if anything else happens, we're going to have to ask you all to leave."

"Don't worry," Luke said grimly. "They'll behave."

Once security was gone, Luke faced the two younger men. "Are you two nuts? Rory doesn't need this kind of stress."

"Lorelai doesn't even know I'm here," Ryan said.

"Maybe it's better that she doesn't," Lorelai spoke up.

Ryan stared at her for a moment, and then understanding seemed to dawn. "You want her with Tristan, don't you?" he said slowly. "You want me to just disappear so they can live happily ever after. What did I ever do to make you hate me?"

Lorelai looked stricken. "I don't hate you, Ryan. I just..."

"You don't think I'm right for your daughter. I can respect that, but I don't agree with it, and I'm not going to just go away."

"I didn't really think you would," she replied.

He smiled sadly. "No, but you were hoping."

Lorelai didn't answer. After a moment, she said, "I'm going to go check on Rory."

"I'll be in soon," Luke replied. "First I need to talk to these two."

She nodded and headed down the hall.

"This crap stops now," he said to them. "I don't care how much you say you love her--no one loves her the way her mother and I do, and we're not going to let you upset her. We clear?"

They nodded, both of them suddenly feeling very young.

"Good. Now I'm going to go see Rory, but security will be watching you, so don't screw up." With that, he walked away.

* * *

Rory woke up when her mother entered her hospital room, and flashed her a tired smile.

"Hey sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Still tired, but okay. Where's Tristan?"

"He's in the waiting room. I'm sure he'll come see you in a little while."

"I hope so," she said softly. "He told me he loves me, mom."

Lorelai sat down on the foot of the bed. "How do you feel about that?"

Rory hesitated. "I'm not sure. I think I could hear him when I was in the comas, and what he was saying...it sounded right. But...it's Tristan."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

"I don't know. I'm just so confused! I mean, Ryan _proposed_! And I love him."

"But?"

She sighed. "But hearing Ryan say he loves me has never made me feel the way I did when I heard it in my coma."

"What was so different about it?"

"It just seemed more...right, I guess. I felt accepted, and secure. It was a feeling I wanted to wake up and have."

"And now you know it wasn't Ryan making you feel that way."

"Right. But do I really know it was Tristan? Maybe I was just dreaming the feeling."

"Maybe, but how did you feel when he told you he loves you after you woke up?"

"I felt, I don't know, content, I guess. Like things made more sense after he said it. Do you know what I mean?"

Lorelai nodded. "I think so. Honey, how do you feel about him?"

"That's the part I haven't figured out yet."

Luke entered the room then. "Morning, Rory. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Do you think they'll let me go home soon?"

"Why don't I go find a doctor and see if I can find out?"

Rory smiled up at him. "Thanks, Luke. That would be great."

Luke left, and soon passed Ryan, who was coming down the hall.

In the hospital room, Rory turned back to her mother. "This is all such a mess, mom. The only thing I'm sure of right now is that I have to tell Ryan I can't marry him."

Out in the hallway, Ryan froze. He couldn't have just heard Lorelai say that. This had to be a nightmare. His jaw set and fists clenched, he walked into the room...

_To be continued…_


	37. You don't need dozens of suitors

Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T...eventually

Rating: R

Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2

Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's Note: Wow, am I actually updating twice within a reasonable span of time? What a novel idea. This chapter's title quote is from _Little Women_, which is nowhere near as good as the book, but it has Christian Bale as Laurie and Eric Stoltz as John Brooke, so it's worth watching.

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Thirty-seven: "You don't need dozens of suitors. You need only one... if he's the right one."

Although she masked it well, Ryan could see the guilt on Rory's face when he walked into her hospital room. He knew she was wondering if he had overheard her, and if he had, how he would react.

He forced a smile, and watched her relax. It felt like she was stabbing him in the gut, but his expression didn't falter. "Good morning, Lorelai. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Ready to get out of here, actually. Luke is trying to find the doctor, so I can ask when I'm going home."

"You'll be returning to Stars Hollow, I suppose?"

Her face clouded. "We haven't really talked about it. I guess so, although I'm not sure where mom and Luke will put me!"

"We always have room for you," Lorelai soothed.

"You'd be welcome to come stay with me in New York," he offered.

Her reaction was what he expected but desperately hoped against. Her face grew pale, and she wouldn't meet his gaze. "I couldn't impose on you like that," she demurred.

He decided to push the issue. "Lorelai, we're practically engaged. I hardly think you staying with me would be an imposition."

She exchanged a quick glance with her mother, and in that moment he knew his fate was sealed. Lorelai stood up abruptly and said, "I think I'll go try and track down Luke and the doctor."

Ryan sat down in the chair she had vacated, mentally bracing himself for what was to come.

Rory stared down at her hands in her lap, obviously weighing her next words. "Ryan," she finally began," we need to talk."

_Quite possibly the four most hated words in the history of relationships_, he thought grimly. "About what?"

"About us," she replied, at last meeting his eyes. "I can't accept your proposal, Ryan. At least not right now."

Fear and rage were warring within him, but he managed to retain his composure. "Why not?" he asked coolly.

She faltered under the intensity of his stare. "I...God, this is so hard. It's...it's complicated."

His tone hardened. "Lorelai, I love you. I want to marry you, and you've just turned me down. At least do me the courtesy of telling me why."

Her eyes were pleading. "Ryan..."

"I want to hear you say it," he demanded in a voice like steel.

"It's Tristan," she blurted out. "He told me he's in love with me."

"As far as I can see, that's _his_ problem," he retorted. "The question is, how do _you_ feel about _him_?"

Tears started to well up in her eyes. "I don't know!" she insisted. "This is all so confusing. I never expected... You have to understand, I _do_ love you, very much. I just--I can't marry you. Not now."

He regarded her sadly, the silence stretching on for several minutes.

"Say something," she pleaded.

"If you can't marry me now, I guess you can't marry me at all," he said at last.

"What do you mean?" she cried, tears flowing freely now.

He looked away, no longer able to face her. "You claim you don't know how you feel about Tristan, but you're willing to throw away a life with me because of him. I'd say that answers the question pretty decisively."

"Ryan, please..."

His eyes were sad, his expression resigned when he turned to face her once more. "I'm sorry, Lorelai. But I can't see you anymore."

"Don't do this!" she begged. "I just need a little more time to figure things out."

"I can't give you that time," he said quietly.

"I guess this is goodbye, then."

His heart broke as she said the words. Until that moment, he had held onto the tiniest shred of hope that she would say she was wrong, that she loved him and only him, that she could marry him. Now that hope was gone. "I guess it is," he replied, standing up.

He walked over to the door, heard her sobs intensify. When he reached the hall, he turned to face her one last time, and whispered, "Goodbye...Rory."

* * *

Luke, Lorelai, Tristan, Paris, and Jess were all in the waiting room when Ryan emerged from Rory's room. Ignoring the other four, he walked over and stood in front of his former business partner and friend. "You win," was all he said before heading for the hospital's exit. 

Tristan immediately leapt to his feet, but Paris stayed him with a firm hand upon his wrist. "Sit down," she ordered. "Rory isn't going to want to see you yet. Lorelai and I will go."

Jess helped his wife out of her chair, then she and Lorelai disappeared down the hall.

"What do you think happened?" Jess asked Tristan.

"I'm not sure--but I don't think RJ is coming back," he mused.

"If he hurt Rory..." Luke growled.

"Calm down, Luke," Jess admonished his uncle. "It looked to me like she broke _his_ heart, not the other way around." He turned back to Tristan. "You must have some idea of what caused this," he insisted.

Tristan shrugged. "I'm not positive, of course, but last night I told Rory how I felt about her."

Jess' eyebrows shot up. "I see. And what did Rory have to say about that?"

"She was...surprised. And confused. But it was--good, I think."

"Huh. That's, well, interesting." He grinned suddenly.

Unnerved by the other man's expression, Tristan asked, "What?"

"Nothing. It's about damn time, that's all."

* * *

When Lorelai and Paris entered Rory's room, they found her curled up on the bed, crying softly. Lorelai immediately rushed to her daughter's side, folding her into a warm embrace. Paris waddled over a bit more slowly, but soon she, too, was comforting her friend. Lorelai whispered soothing words while Paris somewhat tentatively held Rory's hand, and eventually her tears subsisded. 

"What happened?" Lorelai asked gently.

"I," she sniffled, "I told Ryan that I couldn't marry him, and he," a fresh batch of tears began to flow, "broke up with me. This is all Tristan's fault!" she practically wailed.

"Most things are," Paris commented dryly. "But you did the right thing, Rory. You must know that."

Rory stared at her friend. "How can you be so sure?"

"It's obvious. If you had really wanted to marry Ryan, you would have said yes to his proposal weeks ago. As it is, almost two months have passed. That doesn't exactly scream 'undying love'."

"But I loved him. I _do_ love him," she protested weakly.

"We know you do, sweetie," Lorelai replied, stroking her daughter's hair. "But loving someone isn't the same as wanting to spend the rest of your life with him. I loved your father, but it was _Luke_ I wanted to marry."

Rory sighed and snuggled closer to her mother. "I know. It's just that yesterday things seemed so much simpler. This is all such a mess. I never wanted to hurt Ryan."

"Of course you didn't," Paris said briskly. "But making the right choice was much more important than sparing his feelings. You have to ask yourself, would you have been happy with him five, ten, twenty years down the line?"

"I guess I'll never know, will I?" She laughed sadly. "I think the things we wanted out of life were just too different. I'll always be a small-town girl at heart, and he didn't understand that."

"He always seemed vaguely uncomfortable in Stars Hollow," Lorelai agreed. "And not just in the Miss-Patty-is-hitting-on-me-again way. I know you'll miss him, Ror, but Paris is right--you did the right thing. You were honest with him, and I'm so proud of you for that."

"I just wish it didn't hurt so much. And I wish..."

"What?" Lorelai prompted.

"I wish I knew what to do about Tristan."

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed by the time Lorelai and Paris returned to the waiting room, by which time Tristan was practically jumping out of his skin. "What's wrong? Is she okay?" he demanded to know as soon as the two women appeared. 

"She'll be fine," Lorelai assured him. "And she'd like to see you now."

He all but sprinted from the room, his heart pounding. Arriving outside her room, he was relieved to see a calm, composed Rory sitting up in bed.

He knocked on the door frame, and she graced him with a smile. "Come on in," she said.

He walked over and took his customary seat beside the bed. "How are you doing?" he asked carefully.

"I've had better days, but I'll be fine." She gazed intently at him, blue eyes unreadable. "You weren't there when I woke up this morning."

He flushed slightly, remembering their conversation from the night before. "I'm sorry. RJ showed up, and we, uh, didn't want to wake you."

"Of course you didn't," she said somewhat cryptically. "Look, about what you said last night..."

His heart dropped to his stomach, and he steeled himself for the killing blow. "Yeah?"

"I turned down Ryan's proposal today." Her voice was quiet, and a little shaky. "So he broke up with me."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

He leaned forward, grasped her hands. "I _am_ sorry, Rory," he insisted. "Not about the way I feel, or even that I told you, but I'm sorry I made things so complicated for you."

She laughed softly. "As much as I'd like to blame you, I know it isn't your fault." She flashed him a grin. "At least, not entirely."

"Gee, thanks."

"Now that Ryan is...out of the picture, things might seem simpler, but they're really not. I don't know what, if anything, is going to happen with us, Tristan. But I do know I need some time to figure stuff out." She paused, and held his eyes for a moment. "And while I'm figuring things out, I think it would be better if I didn't see you."

He tried not to panic, but it wasn't easy. "How long?" he managed to ask.

"I was thinking a week, and then we can see how things go from there."

A week. He could handle that. "That sounds fine. Where will you be staying?"

"Here in Hartford, with my grandparents. My mom wanted me to come to Stars Hollow, but it will just be too crazy and crowded with the kids."

"That's probably a good choice, then. I know Emily and Richard will love having you, too."

She grinned. "Yeah, being pampered by them sounds pretty good right now. Although I was seriously looking forward to a cup of Luke's coffee."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to bring you some."

"Probably. He's accommodating like that."

Suddenly serious, he squeexed her hand. "Everything is going to be okay, Rory. I promise."

* * *

Somewhat to Tristan's amazement, the next week went by quickly. He put his apartment in New York up for lease, knowing that even if things with Rory didn't work out, he wanted to return to Hartford, to his roots. He started looking for a new place, deciding that this time around he wanted to buy. It was a buyer's market, which made it even more appealing. 

He hammered out the details of his departure from ILRG, as well. RJ wasn't speaking to him at the moment, but his legal counsel had no similar qualms. His ex-partner couldn't afford to buy him out, so Tristan brought in an investor who was willing to act as a silent partner. The papers weren't yet signed, but he had no doubts that the deal would go through.

He started brainstorming ideas for a new business, too. Now that the Italy trip was off, he was going to need something to _do_. Although he by no means needed the money, business was something he was good at, and it was more satisfying to him than a hobby.

And of course, he thought about Rory. Thought about her, worried about her, even dreamed about her. As tempting as it was, he never picked up the phone to call her, never just "happened to be in the neighborhood" of the elder Gilmores' residence. She had asked for a week, and he would give her that. Once the time was up, though, it was going to be open season on Rory Gilmore's heart.


	38. Thank you for playing

**Title:** Unholy Alliance  
**Author:** Angel Grace  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing:** Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually  
**Spoilers:** May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2  
**Disclaimer:** The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.  
**Summary:** Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?

**Author's Note:** Well, now, this is just getting ridiculous. Two updates in two days? Obviously, this is what happens when I don't have enough to do at work. We're getting closer to the finish line, but it's not over yet, folks. Finally, this chapter's title quote is from _A Few Good Men_, which I watch every time it is on TV (and own on DVD). It seemed appropriate, given Tom Cruise's recent batshit-craziness in the media. 

**Unholy Alliance**

**by Grace**

Part Thirty-eight: "Thank you for playing should we or should we not follow the advice of the galactically stupid!"

Emily Gilmore was critically eyeing the fresh flowers in her foyer when the doorbell rang at 9:42 am. She glanced up in surprise, murmuring, "Who could that be at this hour?" Crossing the hall, she opened the door and beamed at her unexpected guest. "Tristan! How lovely to see you. Is Rory expecting you?"

"I don't think so, Mrs. Gilmore. Is she here?"

"Yes, she's in Richard's office. Please come in. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Emily?"

He smiled and stepped into the house. "Just once more, I guess. How have you been?"

"Oh, we're fine. We've certainly enjoyed having Rory here with us, although we wish the circumstances were different."

"Of course. She's doing well, though?"

"Why don't you go see for yourself? You know the way? I simply _must_ do something about these flowers."

He nodded and took his leave, hanging up his coat along the way. The door to Richard's office was open, and Tristan could hear animated voices as he approached. When he reached the door, he saw that Rory and Richard were in the middle of a spirited discussion. He stood and watched them for a few minutes, until Richard glanced up and saw him. Immediately, he broke off the conversation. "Tristan! Good to see you. Please come in, join us."

At the sound of his name, Rory spun in her seat, her face registering her shock. "Tristan..." she said weakly. "I didn't expect to see you today."

He shrugged casually, and sat down beside her. "I thought I'd surprise you. Besides," he said pointedly, "it _has_ been a week."

"Yes it has. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, then."

Richard, completely unaware of the undercurrents, simply smiled graciously at the couple. "I think it's a wonderful surprise. You'll have to join us for lunch."

"I'd love to, but I was actually hoping I could steal Rory away for a while. What do you say?" he asked, turning to her.

"I don't know if I should..." she hedged.

"Nonsense!" Richard declared. "The doctor gave you a clean bill of health yesterday--you should get out and enjoy it."

Rory grimaced. "Grandpa, it's twelve degrees out."

"I'm not suggesting that you go for a walk, but perhaps it would be good for you to get out of the house for a while."

"I suppose..."

"Actually," Tristan interjected, "I was thinking maybe we could go to Stars Hollow. I haven't seen Billy and the twins in a while, and we could even get you a cup of Luke's coffee."

Rory's expression brightened, and Tristan suppressed a grin. Apparently it sounded sufficiently non-date-like enough to not freak her out. "That sounds like fun," she said. "You'll just have to give me a little time to get ready."

"No hurry," he replied easily. "I'm sure your grandfather and I can find plenty to talk about."

"Indeed," Richard agreed heartily. "Why don't you run along now, dear? I'm sure you don't want to keep your young man waiting too long."

She flushed lightly. "Yes, Grandpa," she murmured before all but bolting from the room.

As soon as she was gone, Richard turned his penetrating gaze onto Tristan. "You may find me old-fashioned, young man, but I need to know what your intentions are toward my granddaughter."

Tristan didn't quail under the older man's stare. "They're honorable, sir. I care for Rory very much, and I want a relationship with her. The extent of that relationship is up to her, though."

"I see. Are you prepared to commit to her? Do you see marriage in your future? I won't have Rory trifled with."

"Neither will I," he said with quiet assurance. "I love her, and I can't imagine anything better than spending my life with her. But I don't think she feels the same way. Not yet, anyway."

"Very good. The truth is, Rory's grandmother and I both feel you're a much more suitable match than that Ryan fellow. The DuGreys are a prominent family here in Hartford. Of course Rory, raised under Lorelai's influence, doesn't seem to understand that."

Tristan fidgeted slightly in his chair. "I appreciate your support, sir, but I don't want to be with Rory because it's 'suitable.'"

"Of course you don't. But it will make things...easier in the long run. From your end--and from ours."

He nodded, the unspoken warning clear: any "unsuitable" behavior, and Richard was prepared to make his life difficult. Or put more simply: hurt Rory, and he'd be screwed. Fortunately for everyone, hurting Rory was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

They moved on to somewhat safer topics then, like their respective business interested and the plight of the Yale hockey team. They were deep in discussion about the state of college athletics when Rory walked back into the room.

Tristan thought she looked beautiful. Her soft blue sweater highlighted her eyes, a pair of cream-colored corduroys completing the cozy outfit. A knitted hat was perched atop her head, and a scarf and winter jacket were draped over one arm.

"You ready to go?" Tristan asked.

"Yep. Luke's coffee awaits!"

He affected an injured expression. "You're only using me for the coffee, aren't you?"

She grinned. "Uh-huh."

He turned to Richard. "What do you think--should I take her for coffee or leave her here?"

He chuckled. "Son, never get between a Gilmore and her coffee."

"You tell him, Grandpa."

"You two have fun today. Please say hello to your mother for me, Rory."

"I will." She walked over and gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek. "I should be back sometime this afternoon."

"No need to worry about that. You just enjoy yourself."

"Thanks, I will."

Tristan and Rory headed out of the house, stopping to say goodbye to Emily first. When they reached the car, Tristan held the door open for her, and Rory slid into the passenger seat, an odd look on her face.

While waiting for the car to heat up, he twisted in his seat to face Rory, who was staring straight ahead through the windshield. "You okay?"

Mutely, she nodded. After a moment, she said, "I'm surprised, that's all. I guess I thought I'd have time to prepare myself before I saw you."

"Is it really so bad?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She finally looked at him. "No, I just... I thought things might be weird between us."

"Are they?"

"No, not really. But Tristan, I still don't feel like I've figured everything out. I don't know what's going to happen."

"Can't we figure it out together?"

"How?"

He shrugged. "The usual way, I guess. Trial and error."

"But where do we go from here?"

"How about a date? Isn't that the obvious place to start?"

"A date?"

He smiled. "Yeah, you know, dinner, a movie, that kind of thing. Totally non-threatening."

She gave him a shy smile. "I'd like that."

"Good. This Friday okay?"

"Sure. Pick me up at six."

"Where?"

"I'll be back in my apartment by then. At least that way my grandparents can't interrogate you."

"Oh, you know they love me."

She made a face. "Yeah, they do. Haven't quite figured that one out."

"Hey!"

"I'm just teasing. My grandparents have been trying to fic me up with guys like you since college, that's all."

"'Guys like me'?"

She ticked off the requirements methodically. "Good family, well off, good education, attractive..."

He interrupted with a smirk. "So you admit you find me attractive?"

She blushed. "I'm not blind," she said defensively. "You've always been good-looking, and you know it."

"Thanks--I think."

Her flush deepened. "Sorry. That was a pretty backhanded compliment, wasn't it?"

"To say the least."

She took a deep breath. "I apologize. I _do_ find you attractive, Tristan. I'm just not sure how I feel about that yet."

"I've always thought you were beautiful, Rory," he said quietly. "I hope you know that."

"Thank you," she murmured, ducking her head in embarrassment.

Sensing that she was growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Tristan decided to change the subject. "I'm really looking forward to seeing Emma and Charlotte. They seem to get bigger by the day."

She smiled, obviously relieved. "I know! They're growing up much too fast. Billy did the same thing. It's going to be fun when Paris has her baby. I love it when they're tiny, and fall asleep on you. It's so peaceful."

"You want kids someday, then?"

"Sure. I mean, I always assumed I'd have them eventually. What about you?"

"I never used to think about it, honestly. But up until I met your brother and sisters, I never even knew I _liked_ kids, y'know? I was never around them."

"You like them now, though?"

He grinned. "C'mon, you know Emma has me wrapped around her little finger. Much like her big sister," he added.

The blush was back. "Tristan..."

He ignored her protest. "Where do you want to go first--to see the kids, or to Luke's?"

Rory looked at the clock on the dashboard, and considered the question. "Let's go to Luke's first. My mom picks up Billy from kindergarten around noon and takes him to the inn, so we can see all three kids then. That gives us plenty of time for an early lunch at the diner."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Tristan was exhausted. He and Rory had pulled the three kids out of the day-care room at the inn four hours earlier. Not wanting them to disturb the guests, Lorelai asked them to take the children back to the house. Billy, Emma, and Charlotte had been running them ragged ever since.

Rory had just gotten Charlotte to go down for a nap, and Billy was playing with Matchbox cars in his room. Emma, however, simply refused to be separated from "her Twisty," as she had taken to calling Tristan. For nearly an hour and half, she had been pulling book after book off the shelves in the living room, crawling onto his lap, and demanding that he read to her. Now, his voice was hoarse, and they were running out of books.

When they were halfway through _Richard Scarry's Best First Book Ever_, Rory came into the living room and sat down beside them. She smiled as Tristan gamely recited the adventures of Lowly Worm, Mr. Frumble, and many others. His voice nearly gone, he finally finished the book and realized that Emma was at last asleep.

"Do you want me to take her?" Rory asked in a whisper.

He shook his head and yamned. "Leave her. I don't want to make her up."

Grinning, she told him, "You're a good sport, Tristan."

He smiled back, his eyes tired. "Thanks. I just don't know how to say no to her."

"You're going to be in so much trouble when you have kids of your own."

Later on, he would blame his next words on fatigue. Without thinking, he replied, "I guess you'll just have to be the disciplinarian, then."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Rory's eyes were huge, and a look of sheer panic washed over her face. He immediately tried to minimize the damage, but he didn't think it was working.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Obviously I don't know who the mother of my children will be. And it's certainly not like I expect it to be you, or anything. So just forget I even said anything. Okay? Rory? Are you listening to me?"

She didn't respond, which he found worrisome. Instead, she stood up, her expression glazed, and walked out of the room.

He wanted to go after her, make her understand, but he didn't dare wake Emma, or he'd be reading children's books until the Apocalypse. And so he just sat there, the little girl asleep on his lap, panic and frustration mounting within him.

And he wondered--had he just ruined everything with a single, careless sentence?

_To be continued..._


End file.
